Collide
by epicfate
Summary: Can two seemingly opposite individuals truly find solace in the very offending nature of each other? A collision course is set, personalities clash and people collide. Sometimes the very best relationships start our as a complete and utter disaster.
1. Claire de Lune or loon?

**A/N - Excuse our lame assness. We are complete geeks at heart. You still love us right?**

**maxipoo1024:** Hey, B! I have an idea...  
><strong>branchirps: <strong>Give it to me  
><strong>m: <strong>We should write something together that will be all sorts of epic  
><strong>b: <strong>Oh like a colab love it. What are we gonna write?  
><strong>m: <strong>Something that hasn't been done before.  
><strong>b: <strong>Like Epic crack...with a plot  
><strong>m: <strong>Crack is whack yo! Seriously, wtf would you suggest a crackfic? You are really OCD to a fault. I work your chapters till my fingers bleed and then you send it back to me at least three times. Not to mention I usually need a beer or a keg by the time I'm done just so I can unwind from dealing with your crazy control freakishness. I don't see how you could roll with my sort of crack. You know how I love my crack!  
><strong>b: <strong>lmao She dosen't lie folks! I drink for an entirely different reason, to escape the insanity inside my head. My obsessions are taken very seriously. How she puts up with me I will never know but we have formed a fated oppisites-attract-love of shoes and booze kind of bond!  
><strong>m: <strong>How do you feel about anal?  
><strong>b: <strong>Bahahahah mhhh now that's one I'm sure has been done before what with all the slash and all.  
><strong>m: <strong>Don't get me wrong. I love my anal just as much as the next porn star but I was thinking...  
><strong>b: <strong>Oh you mean like OCD anal rentitive? *momentary laps of head in the gutter*  
><strong>m: <strong>See this is why I love you. You can read my mind. I'm thinking along the lines of American Psycho kind of anal/OCD. Could you imagine...Analward forced to deal with a Bella that is just a trainwreck?  
><strong>b: <strong>Alright heads out of the gutter and anal out of the a** and in front of retentive, hence Analward  
><strong>m: <strong>You totally need to do the anal...at least once *snickers*  
><strong>b: <strong>So trainwreck? Like Crazy Train...hmm Im getting a picture in my head  
><strong>m: <strong>You know what my idea of a Crazy Train is? A night with all the Cullen men. That is one train I would definitely like to ride. All night long. Damnit, now I have that really bad Lionel Richie song stuck in my head. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? EPIC WHACKED OUT CRACKED OUT PLAYLIST! WOOOO! Okay, apparently I started drinking early today.  
><strong>b: <strong>You drink early everyday who are you kidding? Ozzy, Lionel Richie, Showtunes, Classical, Rap,Indi, Rock you know the stuff memories are made of!  
><strong>m:<strong> Okay, enough with the lists, B! We got to get this show on the road. And I do not drink every day. Maybe just a little...  
><strong>b: <strong>Sorry, see she has to keep my tendencies under control**. **You write Trainwerckella...no that would definitely be a strech. O.o  
><strong>m:<strong> Oh come on! It's a perfect fit. You know how utterly chaotic I can be.  
><strong>b: <strong>Ahhh... love at fist sight, or not! A little crack fic meets, disaster, meets heartfelt confessions. hope you hop aboard and take a ride with us.  
><strong>m: <strong>And so our crazy crack-baby love child is born. *no offense to crack babies. I'm actually the product of a crackhead. Can you tell? Long story... Mom, liked the pipe a lot and didn't realize she was preggo. I just meant you know crackfic meets a baby Bran and I made with love... Oh forget it! Okay, we'll shut up now. Strap yourselves in... this is a crazy train!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. SM would run the other way if she saw this Bella of that I'm certain. We are just having some fun.

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><p><strong>Full Summary:<strong> We all have a past; a road once traveled. Some lead to obsessions, some to compulsions, and some to flight. Regardless, our paths are set for us. Can two seemingly opposite individuals truly find solace in the very offending nature of each other? A collision course is set, personalities clash and people collide. Meet Trainwreckella and Analward as they push buttons and get under each other's skin. Sometimes the very best relationships start our as a complete and utter disaster.

**Collide**

**Chapter 1**

**Claire de Lune or loon?**

**EPOV**

Today begins like every other day, just how I prefer it with three chimes on my PDA and exactly five minutes later two, buzzes on my alarm. I am up and in the steaming hot shower, shaved and dressed within the next twenty minutes. The automatic coffee timer has already begun and is just sending its last drip into the carafe, waiting for me to prepare one cup of piping hot, slightly creamed coffee. Two swirls of the coffee spoon and one test sip, meets my approval—one hundred and seventy degree, fresh brewed perfection in a cup.

I sit and sip my coffee as I look over the appointments that I have set for the day. I remember today is the day Angela will be leaving to go on maternity leave. I make a mental note, and an electronic one, to remind Angela to explain in _detail_what I expect from the temp that the company is sending for her replacement today. I finish my cup of coffee and pour one to go, two more swirls of the spoon, and I tighten the lid on the stainless travel mug to carry with me. Placing the spoon in to the dishwasher and wiping down the counter, my eyes search the room briefly making sure everything has been returned to normal.

Satisfied with my findings, I turn and head for my garage, taking the thirty-five steps to my shiny silver Volvo. I click the key pad twice, unlocking the doors, so I can place my things in the well behind the driver's side. I promptly remove my suit coat and place it on the hanger for my commute. I slide into the cool leather seat and depress the opener for the garage door. As I wait the six and a half seconds for the door to rise I check my gauges and mirrors, everything seems to be in order and then I remember it is Friday. I check my tire pressure on Fridays. My vehicle has a built in monitoring system but you can never be too sure about these things.

The short twenty-two minute commute to work allows me to listen to Clair de Lune four times in its entirety and a third of the way through the fifth. I park in the space with a faded yellow seven. I should really bring that to someone's attention the space numbers need repainting. As I slide my suit coat back on, carefully avoiding any unnecessary wrinkles, I send Angela a quick text while I wait for the elevator, alerting her to the fact my car is ready to be taken in today for its routine scheduled maintenance. The rear left tire is .25 psi below recommendation.

As I arrive on the ninth floor like I do ever Friday, Angela greets me and offers to take my mug to freshen my coffee. That is when I notice _her_. Never in my thirty-four years have I seen anything quite as inexplicable as _her._ Angela gives me a look I am unable to decipher, and I am struck with a whiff of what I can only describe as a heavy hand on the perfume bottle of some exotic scent. I cover my face with my closed fist and try to inhale a discrete fresh breath without choking. Then she steps closer, ignoring my personal space entirely. I feel as if every one of my five God given senses is in sensory overload with this _woman_standing before me. Everything inside my head comes to a screeching halt.

Angela is speaking and I think I hear her say that this chaotic mess standing before me is to be my new personal assistant. I'm sure all the color is instantly drained from my face. _Angela is… This thing is…she is… Huh? Where the hell does one find such a complete inappropriate mess? You'd think with the current recession it would be easy to find an eager professional ready, willing and able to work. _I don't allow my eyes to take in anymore of _her_, afraid of what I might discover. I may be a red-blooded male but this inappropriate mess of chaos before me absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, be my assistant for any length of time.

She looks like a cross between someone belonging in some god awful country music video portraying a waitress at Hooters and a hippy-free-loving poster child left over from the sixties. I will have to discuss this with Angela immediately.

"Mr. Cullen, this is Ms. Isabella Swan. She will be your _temporary_ assistant until the agency can find someone who will be available on a long term basis while I am out on my maternity leave." Angela hints at my agitation and enunciates the word temporary. I exhale and lock eyes with Angela, avoiding any further glance at the severely inadequate _assistant_standing before me.

"Bella, just Bella." Christ she is speaking and offering to shake my hand. I don't even want to look at her let alone touch her, but I am never rude.

"Cullen. Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Swan." I don't take her hand and barely make eye contact.

"Angela, I need to speak with you for a moment in my office."

I walk in and stand by the door waiting for Angela to enter so I can close the door behind her. She bursts into tears.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Cullen. It seems there was a mix up and the request I had put in for an assistant was overlooked so Ms. Swan was the only available temp they could find last minute."

I cinch my eyes tight and tent my hand above my brow as I lower my head and breathe deeply. Angela's tears are just the thing that sends me over the edge. Angela doesn't cry. Angela is a professional, a reliable dedicated personal assistant. _Christ, why did she have to get pregnant? I need Angela. I can't work with that thing out there for a single moment. Angela already seems to be checked out on maternity leave. What stands before me now, instead, is a pregnant emotional void, and she has screwed this up royally. _Nothing is going as planned today. From the moment I checked my tire pressure until I stepped off the elevator, this day has headed towards the shitter and it seems to be getting worse with each passing moment.

"Angela, please don't cry. So what did HR say exactly…" My ringing phone interrupts us. I huff and answer indicating to Angela to sit and wait.

"Cullen, Hello sir. Yes, sir. It's complete and awaiting final approval of the client. Yes. Today? Where? Yes, sir. When? No that is not a problem at all I will handle it personally. Thank you. I will let you know when I am on my way. Good Day." I hang up the phone. "Christ! I have to drive to Forks. How far away is Forks, Angela?"

"About four hours, Mr. Cullen." She still sounds weepy. "When do you need to leave?"

"Now."

"Mr. Cullen, your car, sir…it um… It has already been taken in for its scheduled maintenance. "

"What? What the hell am I going to do now? I have to take the final plans to Mr. McCarty for his final approval and he is in Forks. How the hell am I supposed to get to Forks, four hours away, without my car?" I don't raise my voice but I am beyond irritated. Just then, there is a slight knock at my door before it swings wide open and I see the brunette who looks to be wearing hillbilly lingerie to work, carrying a mug of steaming hot liquid with her. I look on in annoyance.

"Yes?" I am curt.

"Mr. Cullen, I brought you some green tea. I always carry some loose tea leaves in my bag. Lots of antioxidants and it helps clear the toxins from your body. You looked a little peakid to me. This should help." She is smiling and walking towards my desk as if it were the most natural thing to do. I'm shocked and repulsed as I look to the hobo type bag she has slung across her body. Actually the bag seems to have more fabric holding it together than her entire body.

She reaches in her bag and grabs a handful of what looks like trash to me. She slams it down on my recently polished, mahogany desk. Her tiny fist opens up and slithers away like some sort of extinct reptilian sea creature. She leans over and eyeballs the pile. She plucks out a piece of dental floss and some Starburst candy wrappers. I look at the pile of crap she has left on my desk and it's beginning to make me gag_. _She proudly fishes out some loose tea leaves in a small baggie and smiles. _Ugh, the thought of consuming any of said beverage is repulsive. _I just stare at her afraid to open my mouth or breathe.

"Actually, Mr. Cullen is a coffee drinker, Bella, and it is on the _detailed _list I left for you. If you don't mind, we are actually in the middle of something. I need to find a car for Mr. Cullen he has some business that requires his immediate departure to Forks, a nearly four hour trip," Angela speaks up and I remember why I am so fond of her. We both just stare at Bella and she doesn't move.

"Forks? Wow what a small world. I'm from Forks and I have a car. Also it doesn't take four hours I have a short cut. It'll only take three hours and twenty minutes tops." The green-tea-wing-slinging-backwoods-bandanna-wearing-guru has a huge white smile on her face. Angela and I exchange glances.

I hate tea.

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><p><strong>EN So we will try not to bore you with long ass A/N in the future, but there are a few more things. We really do have a crazy play list for this story and you can find it on our profile page soon. The titles of each chapter are all derived from songs on the playlist so it seemed fitting to start with Claire de Lune. What do you think of Edward? And Bella so far? You get inside Bella's head next all I can say is hang on tight the ride is about to get bumpy. **

**Reviews are better than the shocked state Bella has left Edward in…can you shock us? Leave one.**


	2. Sexy Back to the Workforce

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. SM would run the other way if she saw this Bella of that I'm certain. But we've taken certain liberties and made her way more fun!

**Collide **

**Chapter 2**

**Sexy Back...to the workforce**

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><p><strong>BPOV <strong>

"What is that noise?" I ask myself, looking around and taking in my surroundings. All I can hear is the loud, brain piercing, fog horn noise, and I can't seem to place it. Next, I hear this sick beat...but in a good way. It just makes me want to move and thrust my ass in someone's face. This distorted but sweet, sexy voice is singing to me telling me I can whip him if he misbehaves. I start move my shoulders and rock my head to the beat.

"Get your sexy on." It's my phone. Actually, it's Justin Timberlake. I must have set my alarm on it last night. Nothing gets me up faster than a hot man-child talking about bringing sexy back. _Who knew he really was sexy, hiding under the bad hair, baby face, and homosexual facade?_

I'm out of bed, pacing my bedroom floor in hot pink and green striped toe socks that go up to my knees, and little boy Spiderman briefs. No top, because let's face it, I have great tits. Those things should never be hidden. You never know when some type of creature of the night or incubus is going to come and get my rocks off in my sleep. _Man, I have to lay off the True Blood before bed._ _Eric Northman...yes, please! Okay, Bella, think. Why would I need to be up before noon on a weekday? _

I walk over to my dresser and notice my bong just sitting there silently calling my name. The _Kind_always sets me straight. I pick it up gently, caressing its smooth base and long, glass neck like I would a lover. Garrett is my lover for all intents and purposes. He's there for me when I have a bad day; he always supports me, and never makes me feel like shit. He loves me for who I am; he never wants me to change.

I check to make sure the bowl is still packed, which it is. Just another reason why I love Garrett; he is always ready for me. I grab an old, scratched Zippo and spark away. I take the rich fragrant smoke into my lungs and hold it in, letting it swirl over my soul and drip into my brain. All is right in my world for the moment. My clarity finally kicks in, and I remember what I need to do this morning. For the first time in a year, I have a job.

"Thanks, my man. I will catch you later," I say as I place Garrett back in his rightful place on my dresser.

After a quick look in the mirror, I decide a shower is unnecessary. I don't have enough time, and I would much rather spend the time I do have doing something productive, like putting a glaze on the ceramic lamp I took out of the kiln yesterday.

My hair isn't completely hopeless. If I let it go much longer, I could start some dreads. I tie a bright blue bandanna around the top of my head, letting my dark strands hang out the back and the sides. I keep my toe socks on and opt for a pair of cutoff daisy dukes. I throw on my _Hooters_t-shirt. It's my favorite shirt, not because I like to brag. While my tits are amazing, they are not that big. I like it because I like their wings so why not advertise at an advertising company. I'm sure they will understand. I throw on a pair of beat-up red Doc Martens. I am dressed for success. One quick squirt of patchouli and I am out the door. Not everyone appreciates the aroma of Garrett, so I will have to settle for smelling like Jerry Garcia for the day... minus the fat and fromunder cheese smell.

"Yo, Rosie! What's up?" I ask as I hop into my ride. Rose is solid. She doesn't put up with anyone's crap and she's so fast she easily leaves people in her dust. She's my kind of broad. My bare thighs instantly adhere to the leather as I settle in behind the wheel. I don't mind, too much. It just reinforces the bond between Rosie and I. I turn my key in the ignition and she revs in delight. I quickly turn on the radio because I can't stand the thought of driving without some tuneage.

The ska beat gets me in the mood. I rock out, nodding my head and singing along.

"I'm just a girl in the world. That's all that you'll let me be! I'm just a girl, living in captivity. Your rule of thumb makes me worry some..." _Story of my life. Or past life... whatever you want to call it._

Newton's. It sounds familiar. I think it's downtown and I may have passed it stumbling out of that bar that does the poetry slams. They've got some talent there. I always go there and attempt to perform some of my own work, but in the process of gearing up with liquid courage, I get too drunk to do a damn thing.

Eric ends up calling me a cab and makes sure I get home safe and sound. He is a real good doobie. Come to think of it, he's kinda like a dog always following me around; funny since his last name is Yorkie. He's a bit yappy sometimes too. He doesn't know very much about me but what little he does know, he seems to think I'm better than _this. _And I'm pretty sure by _this_he means my drinking problem, which isn't really a problem. It's more like a solution. See, I drink to forget all the people I left behind. If I start to remember them, I will probably go running back and finally become the Bella they want me to be. That's just not an option.

Besides, I obviously don't have a drinking problem since it doesn't prevent me from having a job. That's right, Bella Swan is now a member of the workforce...even if it's only temporary.

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><p><strong>EN So everyone meet Bella, Bella everyone. Now that you've met both our characters whadda ya think? Hit us with it! Reviews are akin to Garrett;** **there for us when we have a bad day, always supporting us, and never making us feel like shit. So don't be shy talk to us, Garrett does.**


	3. Crazy Train with a capital K

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. We do not own Twilight. We do however own some wicked playlists, crazy ideas and some hawt shoes!

**Collide **

**Chapter 3**

**Crazy Train with a capital K**

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><p><em>previously from EPOV:<em>

_"Forks? Wow, what a small world. I'm from Forks and I have a car. Also, it doesn't take four hours. I have a short cut. It'll only take three hours and twenty minutes tops." The green-tea-wing-slinging-backwoods-bandanna-wearing-guru has a huge white smile on her face. Angela and I exchange glances. _

**EPOV**

"Bella, that's a lovely offer but I am sure Mr. Cullen won't need your assistance to Forks. If you would like to start filling out some of the additional paperwork I left on the desk for you, I will be out momentarily." Once again, the Angela that I know and respect handles the situation with precise execution.

The chaotic mess flits out my office door seemingly unaffected, and Angela begins to tear up again. _Christ, what have I done to deserve this kind of day? _I am a responsible, reliable, productive member of society. I have impeccable hygiene habits. I brush and floss three times a day, and I do what is expected of me. I need to rectify this situation now.

"Angela, please, I just need a car. I have to get on the road and you can get rid of Ms. Swan. Pay her for the day and get rid of her. I'd prefer no assistant to a week with her. She is something I simply can't endure."

I stare at the pile of crap on the corner of my desk and contemplate burning it. Just then, Angela gets up and walks to the restroom in my office. Returning, donning rubber gloves, she discards the pile of garbage into the wastebasket, sealing up the bag. Placing a fresh liner inside the can, she simply shakes her head. Although this is not in her job description by any means, I am grateful. I simply give her a half smile in gratitude. I still feel the weight of the crap hovering silently on my desk even though it has been removed. I make a mental note to leave word for the cleaning crew to disinfect my desk this evening. _Thank God I won't have to work at my desk today._

"I am going to make some phone calls, Mr. Cullen. Why don't you just try and relax the best you can?"

"Thank you, Angela."

She leaves, the door clicking behind her, and I decide to splash some hot water on my face. While in my restroom I take a Motrin for good measure for the slight headache I feel coming on. After righting the towels, I switch off the light and return to the comfort of my leather chair. Scanning over the McCarty documents, just twice, I verify that I have everything in order to take with me. Slipping everything into my briefcase, including my laptop, I lock it then remove the smudges left behind with a lint free polishing cloth. I make a few calls and realize forty-five minutes have passed. Hesitant at what I will find behind my door, I decide to buzz Angela instead. I press the button and speak.

"I am ready to leave whenever the car is, Angela."

There is no response. I wait. Suddenly my phone is ringing, lights are blinking and the buzzer is crackling as I hear a foreign voice breaking between the crackle.

"Hey Mr. C… the… and I don't… So…Ange…let…know." The lights and sounds and loud crackling cause my blood to boil, and I rush to my door in irritation. Swinging it open, I find Daisy Duke with dreads and Doc Martens sitting on Angela's desk pressing all kinds of buttons still speaking in to the receiver. I walk towards the desk careful to avoid any unnecessary contact and replace the receiver switching off all of the additional lines.

"Oh, hey, sorry Ange stepped away for a minute. She had to go check on your thingy, and I wasn't sure which one of these buttons to press so I took a gamble and tried them all." She just smiles. She has big brown doe eyes. I focus on them like a hunter, calm before the strike. I don't speak. Then I do.

"Ms. Swan, we have chairs, please use one." She eyes me back. I am afraid to look away or anywhere else, not knowing how long Angela has been gone, the whole office could be a complete debacle by now.

"You have lovely green eyes, very clear. Have you ever had an Iridology reading? An iridologist can help find your weak areas and change your whole outlook. I'm talking major life changes here. Are you constipated? You looked kind of blocked up. They can recommend supplements to fix that, you know? Constipation is more serious than you think. If you are constipated the toxins from the sluggish colon can get backed up into the blood and then carried throughout the entire body though the bloodstream, even if your eyes remain clear to the novice onlooker...yes, so pretty. Like KGB green."

_Ohmyfuckinchrist what the hell is an Iridologist? Where does one train for this, and why is this doe-eyed Hooter wearing…. Oh fuck is that...did she just…? Christ, Cullen, look away! _I think I just glanced at the hint of her bare breast peeking out slightly beneath her half-shirt as she raised her arms in gesture to meet her words. _She is speaking about my colon and bathroom habits, and I am glancing at her tits. What the hell is wrong with me? Fuck where is Angela?_

"Oh my…. Mr. Cullen, I need to speak with you." Angela's slack jawed as she rounds the corner and focuses on the scene before her. _We'll need to have Angela's desk disinfected also. _We enter my office leaving the colon-queen behind.

"Mr. Cullen, the company seems to no longer have any available cars today, and I've called some local rental companies. The earliest we can get an executive car would be six tonight. Seems there are several conventions in town and people arrived early to enjoy the weekend festivities and Pike's Market. There is one economy car available at—Rent-a-Wreck if you would like that. Otherwise, I'm afraid your car won't be ready until five."

I am not sure how to take this news. I am still trying to burn the image of my own ogling over the Bob Marley-Hooter girl from my brain.

So, no car, no final approval and one very pissed off Mr. Newton. Mike Newton is taking over the firm from his father and he is a class A jackass. I need to get to Forks and have Mr. McCarty's final sign off on this project back on Newton's desk before close of business or I will never hear the end of it.

"Mr. Cullen?"

"Yes, Angela, I'm sorry. It looks like Rent-a-Wreck has a new customer for today. Please call and let them know I will be there shortly to pick up my _economy _rental."

"Yes, Mr. Cullen."

She leaves me once again and I call a taxi to meet me out front shortly. Gathering all my things, I head out my door and leave a note for the cleaning crew behind. I brace myself for what awaits on the other side of the door this time. Surprisingly, Ms. Swan is seated in a chair and Angela is behind her desk hanging up the phone as I exit.

"Angela…"

"Mr. Cullen, I have some bad news. Looks like Rent-a-Wreck rented their last wreck."

I cinch my eyes tight and inhale a long slow breath then let it all escape suddenly.

"Ohhhh… That's not good. You shouldn't let all of your breath escape at once. It throws off the balance. If you inhale for a count of five, you should double the exhale when in a resting stance. See like this." The chaotic spiritual guru steps behind me now and places her arms around my chest resting her delicate fingers on my stomach and chest; her Hooter's tits smash against my back as she breathes deeply behind me.

_Christ. I am mortified that my dick is actually responding to this. _

I pull away immediately and turn to face Angela, completely ignoring the clusterfucking mess behind me.

"Fine. I guess I'll just take the taxi."

"What?" Both Angela and the pseudo-Yoga instructor chime in with their objections.

"Mr. Cullen…"Angela begins to speak and Ms. Swan interrupts her, waving a dismissive hand stepping back into view.

"Ange, honey, I got this. Mr. C, look I have a car and you need a car. Since I am an assistant, let me assist you. It's my job and I take my jobs rather seriously."

Angela and I make eye contact and she gives a slight surrendering shrug. I lower my head in defeat taking in another deep breath. Really seeing no other realistic option, knowing the local cabbies would never drive to Forks, I make sure to extend my exhale this time. I do not need _her_to touch me again.

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><p><strong>EN So we meet again. Poor Eddie he's having such a shit day. And Bella, while she may not be the ideal assistant she does seem to have an offer that Edward is not going to be able to refuse. **

**The banner is on the profile along with the playlist check it out!**

**Reviews make us inadvertently excited like Bella does to Eddie. Okay friends talk to us don't leave us desperate like poor Edward**


	4. Bat out of Hell and off to Forks

**A/N First we would like to thank all of the awesome readers whether you review or lurk; Thanks for reading! **

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. We do not own Twilight. The uptight anal Edward is our insane version however and we have staked claim on Trainwreckella too.

**Collide**

**Chapter 4**

**Bat out of Hell, and off to Forks**

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><p><strong>BPOV<strong>

_Holy fucking hotness Batman. _Mr. Uptight and constipated has some looks. Man, his eyes are so green, like puff the magic dragon green. I could look at them for days. They are really clear which kind of worries me. I don't think I have seen eyes that clear since...

Well, maybe it means he is lacking a soul they're so clear. I'm gonna have to get my mitts into this one and see what I can dig out. I bet there is just a tiny little party elf in there dying to get out, like a mini Dionysus. I can picture him in a little loin cloth, drinking out of goblet with his bare chest slathered up with some honey. I bet you all these little chickie wood nymphs are licking it off of him and starting an orgy. Nymph... nymphomaniac... _Oh, Christ, Bella. No sexin with the boss. _

Either way, he needs to loosen up, whether it be from a colonic or from me. No one should take life that seriously. It's too short.

I overhear the commotion between preggo and Mr. C. He needs a ride and I got a ride and I know how to ride... er um... drive. Yes, drive. After I suggest driving him, I notice he starts to regulate his breathing. Maybe he's not so hopeless after all. I can work with this.

"Your chariot awaits, kind sir." I do a valiant curtsy and follow him down the corridor to the parking lot.

I smirk to myself, knowing there is no way he expects a sweet ass ride like my Rosie. We walk out the glass doors and I start to take off like a bat out of hell. Meatloaf suddenly gets stuck in my head and I do a mental catalog of my song list to see if I have any for the trip to forks.

"Miss..." I hear his faint call but I've got an internal soundtrack going, and I don't really care.

I have a running start so I jump and slide across the sexy hood from the passenger side all the way to the driver side. I straighten myself out and go to unlock the door. I can hear his excelled breathing as he stands next to me.

"I really don't think the owner of this vehicle would appreciate you..."

The click of the door unlocking interrupts him, and I give him a quirk of my eyebrow.

"Why don't you sit back, relax and enjoy the ride?" I throw my bag in the back seat and notice him still standing. "Oh right..." I quickly chuck the empty Big Mac boxes into the backseat. I gather a few white paper bags with the friendly yellow arch and start to crumble them up.

He stands with the door open watching and waiting.

"Are you going to get in?" I ask. He motions to the floor with a nod of his head. I peer over and see my empty Red Bull cans. "Don't mind those. You can crush them with your feet to make room. We'll hit a recycling bin on the way." He lets out a long exasperated sigh and gets in, trying not to touch anything with his body.

"I have no idea how you..."

"Shhh..." I silence him as I put the key into Red Rosie's sweet spot. The sound is music to my ears. "Listen to those pipes sing."

I see his eyes light up a little. It's good to know he's a real, living, breathing man, because for a second I had my doubts. What kind of man doesn't like an old muscle car? Rosie's hot, too. She's cherry red with a high gloss shine. I don't know many people that can say they own a '69 'stang. I think if she were a person, she'd have big, pretty blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes...maybe even gold. She would definitely have gold eyes because she is just that awesome and this is my head so what I say goes. And big boobs... gotta have the big boobs.

I start to drive and casually look at him. He looks like he's either going to vomit or shit. I'm not sure which one.

"I'm a safe driver. My dad's a cop. Taught me how to drive. I always obey traffic laws."

"And other laws?" he asks, holding up Tito.

"Tito!" He looks at me like I have three heads and seven arms—kind of like a cross between Cerberus and Vishnu. Which would fucking rock, by the way.

"Excuse me?"

"Tito... he's for my on the go needs." The flesh of the apple poking out from the core is starting to turn brown but the green skin is still shiny, just like my current passenger with shiny green eyes.

"You can actually smoke out of an apple?"

"Impressed?" I wink at him.

"Just keep your eyes on the road." His lids lower as he turns to look out the window.

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><p><strong>EN So how's the ride so far? Enjoying yourselves? Bella is. And Edward well that's a different story...but more on that to come. **

**We are loving, your reviews so keep um coming, and maybe it will loosen ole Eddie up a bit. If not we could strap you in the car with Bella, then I am sure you would have something to comment on...reviews let us know what you like. It's like a well timed moan in foreplay, so we know were hitting the mark. ;-)**


	5. Feeling Good or like I need to vomit

**A/N Still loving the response to this crazy fic and all of your reviews and comments! Thank you (even to your lurkers who partake in secret)**

**Collide**

**Chapter 5**

**Feeling Good (or like I need to vomit)**

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><p><strong>EPOV<strong>

We sit in her '69 cherry red Mustang now, silent. Thank god her eyes are on the road. It gives me time to process all the fuckery that just took place in a short six minute and fifty-two second span. _How in the hell does a pot-smoking-Red Bull drinking-Big Mac eating-hoarder score a ride like this? Or rather, defile a ride like this? _I must admit, back in the day I had wet dreams about a car like this, not quite like this…but a cherry red '69 Mustang, an original muscle car. Then I grew up and bought a Volvo.

I let all of the interactions and her nonsense flood my mind as I glance around the car casually, well as nonchalant as one can manage with smashed cans rolling around at their feet and tiny drops of energy drink staining their leather wing-tips. Somehow, I manage without producing vomit.

I notice loose french fries and more energy drink cans, mixed in with what looks like dirt or caked on mud possibly? The car smells like a frat house, and I remember how I hated those days. Perhaps I didn't honestly hate them, but too much of it now is really a blur. I glance at her make-shift apple bong again and then to her from my periphery. _Christ, she is probably high right now._I know you can make a bong out of practically anything. I am just shocked at her sense of freedom and lack of concern. In all honesty, everything about her is a walking conundrum, nothing really adds up.

She causes thoughts to flood my mind that I hadn't thought of in years.I realize in this moment how desperate I am and suddenly I'm disgusted with myself—or the car—or both—it's hard to tell. _What professional in their right mind gets into a fucking garbage heap on wheels with a pot head Hooter chick that has a tight ass (yeah, I noticed that, too) for a four hour ride for business?_Fuck, I need help. To make matters worse I think I smirked a tad as her tight little ass slid across the hood of her shiny Mustang.

"So Mr. C you gotta music preference?"

"I'm sure we don't listen to the same genre." Of that I'm certain. She's most likely a Deadhead. Although, I prefer Jazz and classical music—I know music. My eclectic musical taste is vast and my time spent at Juilliard, when I was present, wasn't wasted.

"Really? Why? Can you read minds or some shit? What kind of music do you think it is I listen to?"

"Well, I can't read minds but I can _read _people and…"

"Ohh, yeah, right. Like my shirt."

"Pardon me?"

"Like how I wore my Hooter's shirt in honor of you today."

I simply stare in disbelief. _What is she insinuating?_

"Ya know... I like Hooter's wings so I wear their shirt to advertise the fact that I enjoy their chicken wings."

_What the fuck? She is talking about wings? _I think she may be higher than I previously thought; I might need to commandeer the vehicle to get us to Forks in one piece. I just stare. However, her big brown eyes don't look glazed or glossy as she glances my way.

"Like ad-ver-tis-ing, at an advertising firm?" She bursts out into laughter, and I am confused. Then it hits me.

"Bella, Newton's is an Architectural firm, not an Ad agency."

"Oh, are you sure?"

"Last time I checked, yes." I've been at the same dammed company for ten years.

"Oh well, I still like their wings. Ohh…wings, I'm hungry. Are you hungry?"

"I bet you are." I mumble under my breath.

"So seriously back to the tunes, dude. How is it you think I roll?"

"Oh I don't know Floyd, Marley, and Grateful Dead?" I just shake my head.

She lets out this cackle that is a cross between the wicked witch of the west and a cow in labor. "You're actually funny. Maybe, you're not constipated. Maybe your chakras just need to be aligned."

She fingers her stereo and selects a disc after nearly running us off the road. Then, as if I hadn't been shocked to the core today already, Feeling Good by Nina Simone comes out loud and clear through the speakers. I actually really like Nina Simone. Although, the volume she is listening to her music at can definitely induce premature hearing loss.

She looks pleased with my reaction. "Surprised? The Ninster is great, but I actually prefer the Muse version." She lowers her voice to a whisper, and I have to lean in to hear her. "But I didn't think your uptight ass could handle the rock gods that are known as Muse."

I shake my head and quickly change the subject. She is so far off base. "So for someone concerned about the environment, clean colons and chakras, how is it the inside of your car could be its own reality show for traveling hoarders that could easily feed a starving family of four a bunch of chemically processed, trans-fat laden crap?"

"Good point, Mr. C. I'm kinda still on the fence with that one myself. Everything I read and believe says live for the moment and be in the now, but it's all kinds of preachy about your body being a properly cleansed vessel. Well, the way I see it, sometimes in the now I feel like a Big Mac and it kinda works like a colonic. I figure it works its way through my system so fast there isn't time for the chemical crap to really build up, but as a precautionary measure, I do a detox cleanse once a month anyhow in addition to regular colonics."

I am flabbergasted by this train-wreck before me, chauffeuring me to Forks in her '69 Mustang. Before we get any further, it dawns on me. I need to insist she stop and get a decent outfit. I truly can't be seen with her like this.

"Look, Ms. Swan, we need to stop and get…um…. I need you to go to Nordstrom's."  
>She looks at me in question but takes the next exit for the mall. She pulls into the underground garage and scares the crap out of me as she shrieks.<p>

"Scooooore… looks like they are environmentally friendly here at Nordy's, and you don't have to share a ride with my Red Bull corpses any longer. Help me scoop them up, Mr. C, and we can toss them in the recycling bin over there before we go hob-nob with the upper-crust. Ohh crust…pizza…malls always have great pizza."

I focus on the cans and shake my head at what I am about to do, mentally calculating the number of steps to the lavatory once inside the building. We walk over to the recycling bin and toss in the cans. She bows her head in what looks like a moment of silence.

"Peace out, homies!" She brings two of her fingers to her lips and kisses them before throwing the peace sign.

_Christ, and our trip has not even begun._

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><p><strong>EN So a few more pieces the puzzle and a few more questions. Still with us? Reviews are better than the expressions on Edward's face, and they keep us motivated. So leave one. :) **


	6. Legs Outside of the Box

**A/N It seems we've lured a few lurkers out of hiding with the previous chapter so welcome. Thank you to all who continue to comment and review; each one really makes us smile and some are inspiring!**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. We do not own Twilight. Nor do we own the crazy playlist we've compiled. We have thrown it all together along with our loco imaginations to bring you this lil Fic-wreck. Enjoy!

**Collide **

**Chapter 6**

**Legs Outside of the Box**

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><p><strong>BPOV<br>**  
>We walk into Nordstrom and my eyes go all wide, like the last time I dropped that crazy batch of LSD. There are so many colors and textures. Wow, this place is like a sensory orgasm waiting to happen.<p>

"So, what do you need here, Mr. C?" I ask, trying to take it all in.

"I don't need anything. You need a new outfit. We can't meet the client with you looking like..."

"What's wrong with my outfit?" He shakes his head at me, but I really want to know what's wrong with it. Aside from the fact that I don't work for an advertising agency, I don't see the problem. I am fully clothed and actually somewhat color coordinated today.

"Just humor me, please?"

I agree, only because it's my job to do what he says. No arguments here—for now.

He starts grabbing things off the rack, things that make me want to gag. Are those khakis? A button down blouse? I love my flannel button downs but these are silk or some shit. He did not just grab a turtleneck. I watch him very closely. It's like he's shopping for a nun. And this chica... she aint no nun. It's been awhile, but I know how to work it when the opportunity arises.

"You don't have any sisters do you?" I ask as I eye the vulgar selections in his arms.

"Actually, I do..."

"That's surprising." I walk behind him, not sure of where he is leading me.

I see the lace before I see anything else—lots of see-through satin and scraps of fabric posing as underwear. I'm au natural for the most part. I don't usually wear a bra and boy shorts suit me just fine. I notice him grab a pair of black thigh highs. I wonder what he plans on doing with those. I don't think he picked any skirts, but I can't be sure because I was momentarily distracted by the blandness of his choices. Who knows? Maybe Mr. Anal-retentive is a freak in the bedroom, wearing women's thongs and stockings. If anyone could pull it off, it'd be him. I can just tell he has a hot body under the shirt and tie.

"And why is that?"

"Well, your choices in clothing... No woman wants to dress like a soccer mom. Even if it's business attire, she wants to feel sexy." I see him eyeball the thigh-highs, sensually touching them. I quirk an eyebrow at him and smile. "Okay, so you may have picked one sexy thing, but I don't have anything to go with that."

"I have a skirt." He holds up a charcoal, knee length, A-line. _Yes, I may choose to dress like a freak but I know clothes. _I shake my head and gnaw on my lip. This could be fun. He really is clueless.

"That's not what I mean. I don't have a garter belt or the proper underwear." I watch his Adam's apple go up and down. He furrows his eyebrows and has the cutest confused look on his face.

"I don't understand?" It's a question and he's looking at me for answers. An idea pops into my head and a wicked smirk graces my face. He needs to loosen up, and I know just how to do it. I snatch the stockings from his hand and grab a few things off the rack as I make my way to the dressing room. He stands in the isle dumbfounded before I get his attention. I motion for him to follow me with my finger and a come-hither stare.

"I'm going to show you how you're supposed to wear these things." He reaches for his tie and loosens it a bit. I smile to myself as my inner soundtrack starts playing Legs by ZZ Top.

I shut the door to the dressing room and look at myself in the mirror. My dad always described me as a free spirit and constantly said I reminded him of my mother and my wardrobe can testify to that. I know it may seem off putting to some people, but it's who I am. I will never change for anyone. _I made that mistake before. _I never want to live inside of the box and be a standard cookie cutter shape the world thinks I should be. I want to have Miles Davis and the Black Eyed Peas on the same playlist without being judged. I want to drive my car, align my chakras and eat greasy food and not give a fuck. Life is just too short. I can tell that Edward has some potential. I think he just got caught up in corporate America and being everything everyone wants him to be. But what does Edward want?

I sit on the bench and delicately put my foot into the stockings. I fasten the garter belt in place. It's black and lace and is the perfect accent to the thigh-highs. I leave my hooters shirt on for obvious reasons and because it's me. I open the door and watch his jaw drop to the floor.

"See? This is how you wear thigh-highs?" He swallows again. I can see little beads of sweat forming under his perfectly styled hair.

He quickly thrusts the outfits into my hands. "I'm going to go wait for you in the car." He takes out a black American Express card and hands it to me. "Just use this to pay for everything." He rushes off, hopefully to the bathroom because he looks like he is about to shit himself.

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><p><strong>EN Well Bella is truly over the top ;) Your reviews make us feel like Eddie...but you'll have to wait to find out what that is. So leave one and let us know what you think he's thinkin'. Have a great weekend!**


	7. Promiscuous or Peculiar

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. We do not own Twilight. Nor do we own the crazy playlist we've compiled. But everything else belongs to us. Enjoy!

**Collide**

**Chapter 7**

**Promiscuous or Peculiar**

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><p><strong>EPOV<strong>

_Holyfucikingshit. I need to find a restroom quick. _Never in all my years, have I met anything like this woman/girl. Actually, I have no idea how old she is. _Damn._ Ms. Swan may be crazy but she definitely has a body that can make grown men squirm. _Perhaps I should check out more CMT. Maybe I was a bit rash before with my judgment. I mean Daisy Duke was admittedly hot; I may have enjoyed a re-run or two of Dukes of Hazard as a horny teenager. _

As I approach the sink in the men's room, I rush to splash some cold water on my face. I have no idea what to do now. I have to get to Forks and I need Mr. McCarty's final approval on these plans, and this crazy lunatic of a woman is trying on garter belts and flaunting her tits and legs in my face, discussing my colon and irises. _I was simply trying to select tasteful, conservative choices for her when I realized she also would need some hose. My sister taught me no self respecting professional woman goes without hose to work, but perhaps that is where I made an error. _

_I hope she chooses the skirt and garter number underneath. _Christ, what has come over me? I am like an uncaged monster or a horny pimply teen. _Damn, I didn't even get to the shoe section._ Surly she knows how to select a decent pair of shoes. I mean she definitely knows how to wear a garter_. As soon as the door to the dressing room opened, my jaw nearly scraped the carpeted floor. I was utterly unprepared for that visual, and I heard ZZ Top's Legs blaring in my mind. I instantly felt uncomfortable and knew this situation was not at all appropriate by any standard; I left the purchase to her discretion entirely. Frankly, that worried me but I really was left with no other choice in the matter. _

As soon as I dry my hands and adjust my tie, I brush it once more to lie flat and smooth. I regain my composure, looking at my reflection in the mirror; I breathe and slow my exhale. It does calm me down a bit, and I decide it is best if I head straight out to meet her at the car.

As I approach the pristine cherry Mustang, I notice she is already standing by the driver side, consuming a slice of greasy pizza, waiting on me, wearing the same thing she came to work in. I accidentally let all my breath escape at once in a loud huff as I approach, and she turns to look at me with a crazy glint in her eye.

"Ms. Swan, I left you my American Express card so you would make a purchase."

"I did Mr. C." She raises the bag and waves it out in front of her in a taunting gesture.

"Well, I rather hoped you'd be wearing it."

"Oh, why?"

"Because I can't take you to meet my client dressed like that."

"But we aren't in Forks yet are we? And you said the client is in Forks."

I glance at my watch, shaking my head dismissively and realize that I don't have time for this.

"Just get in the car. We need to be on the road already."

"That I can do, big papa. Okay, Rosie, let's show Mr. C a good time, baby." Crazy runs her hand across the dash in a sensual manner, like one would with a lover, then winks at me.

I clear my throat and loosen my tie. _Perhaps I had tightened it a bit too tight._She revs the engine and the radio begins to blare some crazy music with the singer declaring, "How you doing, young lady? That feelin' that your givin' really drives me crazy" Then crazy-Swan screeches again.

"Ohh I almost forgot…" Reaching her hand into the front of her shorts by her hip, exposing even more of her bare skin, she produces my Amex card. "Thanks for the plastic." She wiggles it at me between her fingers. I grab and replace it instantly into the third slot within my leather wallet, snapping my mouth shut. The insane ghetto music is making me a bit jumpy with lyrics constantly referring to "hitting it."

"You okay, Mr. C? Weren't you able to take care of your needs in the restroom? Are you still backed up?"

I furrow my brow deeper, unable to respond, silently wishing for some of her Bob Marley or Grateful Dead crap I imagined her listening to at this moment. _She had mentioned Muse. Damn, I'd give anything for that over this musical selection, if this can even be considered as such. _

"How old are you, Ms. Swan?"

"Why, Mr. C, hasn't anyone ever taught you not to ask a woman her age? Are you sure you have a sister?"

"Yes, I know all of the members of my family and their birthdays. I didn't think I would offend you. I was only trying to place another piece to the puzzle—that is you."

"Well, big C papa, I'm twenty-nine. How old are you? Forty-something?"

_Fuck, do I look forty? She is twenty-nine? Damn! _She looks like she's barely twenty-two and acts like—well—a crazy train wreck.

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><p><strong>EN Since we enjoy playing make-believe with E and B we continue to do so, but your reviews are like icing on the cake. Drizzle, spread, or frost us :-)**


	8. The Swan, Katy Perry and Show Tunes

A/N Wow you all are incredible thank you for all the reviews. If you have PM's disabled on your account we can't send you a thanks personally, but just know that we read them all and they do make us smile and laugh.

Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. Sane or not we are still playing with these characters in our heads; and the pretty in our minds. Enjoy our break from sanity.

**Collide**

**Chapter 8**

**The Swan, Katy Perry and Show Tunes**

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><p>BPOV<p>

I know he's not forty. I like getting him going. I think it's good for the soul. He really needs to learn to loosen up. I keep my eyes forward on the road, just like he wants. I grab the occasional glance of him out of my peripheral. I really wish I could read his mind. I bet he has some crazy thought processes going on in there. I know he's smart, and I can tell he's hot... But there is more in there. There's got to be. I don't get drawn to the super stuck up OCD type. Maybe it's just an act. Maybe he's hiding behind his stuffiness for a reason. I'm going to get to the bottom of it... It may kill him in the process but not like actual blood and guts murder. I'm talking about killing the creepy forty year old facade he puts off. That alter ego needs to die!

I take a hand off the steering wheel and with a few swipes of my finger, I select a new playlist on my iPod. I start dancing in my seat, and he finally looks over at me. The fuckhawt songstress, Katy Perry starts singing of warm, wet, and wild things. I give him a devilish smirk.

"What are you doing?"

I join in harmony with Miss. Perry and start to sing.

"We girls are unforgettable. Daisy Dukes, bikinis on top." I stress the Daisy Duke part and pop my 'p.' He starts fidgeting in his seat and then I'm really going to get him with the next line. "So hot we'll melt your popsicle..." I look down at his crotch and lick my lips. This is too easy.

"You really listen to this?" he says with a slight change of pitch. I laugh.

"Don't you?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"No, don't you have something we both maybe like?"

A few more flicks and I put on some classical. I don't have to be watching him to know his jaw is on my Ed Hardy floor mats that are now visible thanks to the earth crunchy hippie types at Nordstroms.

Beautiful, delicate cello notes start to pour through my speakers. It's sad and sweet all at the same time. It's one of my favorite pieces performed by my favorite cellist.

"Yo Yo Ma?" he questions.

"The Swan. It's very appropriate, no?

"I had no idea."

"You have no idea about a lot of things," I snap, not meaning to.

I just don't like close minded people. It's one of the reasons I moved away from Forks. I love Charlie, but he's old fashioned. Bella should marry her high school sweetheart right after graduation, pop out a kid or two and make sure dinner is always warm, on the table. Forget about your art, Busy. It's not important. Except what I heard was, "You're not important." I left a week after graduation. I haven't looked back. Mister suit wearing, shiny shoes thinks I want to be here. He's wrong. I'm dreading my arrival in Forks just as much as he is. But you gotta roll with the punches, and fate seems to see it fit to throw us together and bring us to Forks.

He opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it. I change the music again and drown my thoughts with the music styling of Gwen Stefani. She sings it for me, "Whatcha waiting, whatcha waiting, whatcha waiting, whatcha waiting foooooooorrrr!"

"I'm sorry." It's quiet and barely there, but it's enough. It makes me smile.

I drive for what feels like hours in complete conversational silence. I don't mind too much. Sometimes I have enough conversations in my own head that I don't need to talk to other people. I wish he would just ask. I know he must have a thousand questions floating around in there, kind of like lightening bugs. Their asses light up momentarily, just like his questions. And then just like that, the light is gone as quickly as it came. He's too afraid to ask. I would give him the truth. I always do. Honesty is important to me.

We are almost within Forks town limits. I get lost in the music and the purr of Rosie. It's kind of fitting that the Black Eyed Peas are singing about tonight being a good night. Maybe it will.

I see some flashing blues in my rear view.

"Fuck."

Mr. Overly Observant didn't seem to notice until I pulled over to the shoulder, spraying dirt and rocks.

"Why are you stopping?"

"Po pos." I motion with my thumb behind me.

"Christ."

"Just be cool, Daddy-O." I roll down Rosie's window and flash my award winning smile.

A fine specimen of man walks over to the car. Aviators and combat boots. Mamma likes. There's just something about a man in uniform and maybe the prospect of using his handcuffs on me. The State Trooper uniforms are a lot hotter. Maybe it's because it doesn't resemble Charlie's at all. That would just be weird.

Officer Do Me lowers his sunglasses, and I die.

"Busy?" His tongue darts out at licks his pretty pink lips.

"Motherfucking Whitlock! What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

I look over to Edward, who seems to be having a stroke, and answer, "Business."

"Oh, yeah? What sort of business?" He eyes Edward suspiciously. He lowers his aviators and his icy eyes glare at Edward. "Cullen?"

"Jazzy?" Edward questions.

"You two know each other?" This trip just keeps getting stranger and stranger. What did my man Jerry say? "What a long, strange trip it's been." Jasper continues to look back and forth between Edward and I.

"Busy, are you turning tricks?" It takes me a minute before I get it.

"Jasper, I am not a prostitute!" I laugh and Edward turns beet red.

"Well, you never know. But if you were...this one's got money." He shrugs. "You know you were going kind of fast back there."

"Sorry." I bite my lip and look innocently at him.

"You know, if I still had Rosie... I probably wouldn't be here right now." He looks into the car longingly.

"If you still had Rosie, you probably wouldn't suck at poker either, Whitlock."

"Touche, Busy."

"So you're not gonna give me a ticket are you?"

"I couldn't give you a ticket even if I had to. It was good seeing you."

"You too. Can you do me a favor? Don't tell Charlie I'm home."

He lets out a long sigh. "No can do. But people change. Just look at you..."

I give him a glare, shooting him death daggers with my eyes. "Laters, Jazzy!" That nickname is ridiculous. All I can imagine is him performing some big Broadway number from A Chorus Line or some shit, jazz hands and all. One singular sensation every little step he takes. One thrilling combination every move that he makes... I start to shake my head back and forth and bring my hands in front of my face and wiggle my fingers. The corner of Jasper's lips twitch in a smirk. I know he knows exactly what is going through my head. My boys get me.

In his best singing voice, bravado and all he belts, "One smile and suddenly nobody else will do.

You know you'll never be lonely with you know who. One moment in his presence, and you can forget the rest..."

"Whitlock, I think you could single handily start a Broadway revival. You're good!"

Edward remains silent in his seat. He actually looks a little green. Jasper, on the other hand, is glowing. He seems to be reveling in his side of the road revival and I shake my head. It's good to see him happy. I guess the law suits him.

I rev the engine just to rub it in his face. I peel out, squealing my tires as I take off.

"What the fuck was that all about?"

I turn my head in surprise and smile. "He speaks."

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><p><strong>EN So a lot was revealed in this little chapter. You may want to reread it slowly to make sure you picked up on all the little pieces we tossed out to ya. Also Bella's shoes are on the profile if you wanna peak. They're hawt. j/s**

**We promised you a plot and this is just the beginning. As always we love hearing what you think, so give it to us; thoughts, theories, confusion, questions. Click the review button and hit us with it operators are standing by. Really it's just us but we will answer you :)**


	9. Hot and Cold but Smooth

**A/N Thank you for all the love you all have given to this crazy idea, that began in our insane brains.**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. Blah blah blah...like people would pay us for this. Clearly we are not sane and we are still playing with these characters in our heads-for free. Enjoy.**

**Collide**

**Chapter 9**

**Hot and Cold but Smooth**

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><p><strong>EPOV<strong>

"You really think you are funny? Don't you?" I am so completely flabbergasted by this trainwreck. One minute hot the next, cold. Actually that Katy Perry song suits her. Thank god she didn't play it. I have particular taste, but I am not fucking forty and I still keep up with current events. Perhaps I may have been a tad quick to judge but so was she.

"Whether I do or not is really of no importance. I just speak my mind. Live my life. I don't worry about what other people think…anymore." Her voice almost wavers on her last spoken word. She seems so honest like she would divulge anything if asked. But I don't really want to open that can of worms.

"Hmm…" Glancing at her profile quickly I smirk then return my gaze to the road ahead.

"Don't do that. Say what you want to say. It will make you feel better. It's freeing, might help with your blockage."

"Christ, would you please stop referring to my bathroom habits. I have no issues—in the bathroom. "

"So you do admit to issues."

I snap my jaw shut in exasperation. "Who doesn't? But right now I have one huge issue that can be rectified. So if you don't mind, can you please pull over and go change into what you purchased before we meet with the client."

"Okay, Mr. C, you're the boss!" She adds a wink. Fuck. Speeding up she takes the turn dangerously fast, pulling off around the corner. Holy shit, she can actually drive. We pull into a parking lot for what appears to be an abandoned dive bar.

"Uh, where exactly are you going?"

"Come on. Drop your uppity judgment for a moment. We're in Forks now. This is a bar. I'm gonna change and you need a drink. Relax."

I just stare at her averting my eyes to the bar and back to her, processing the situation. A drink could actually be necessary—only one. Perhaps a nice glass of chilled wine.

She leans way over the edge of the car retrieving her bag from the back and I notice her—once again, unintentionally. Damn. Adjusting myself, I walk ahead towards the dive. When we enter she takes off to the back like this place is familiar, and I head straight for the bar.

This dude looking like the quintessential sleazy bartender approaches, long stringy blond hair pulled back in a low pony tail and icy eyes that size me up.

"Hey, man, what'll it be?"

"What kind of wines do you have?" I'm not a complete moron but surely they have a bottle of something chilled. Right? It's not like I asked for a wine list.

He just stares at me like I have polycephaly, walks off and returns, slamming down an empty shot glass and a bottle of Jack.

"I think you might need a few of these—especially if that was crazy, Busy Izzy with you, entering the restrooms at the rear. Wine won't help, my man." Then he just shakes his head and walks out of sight.

What the fuck have I gotten into? I woke up this morning and everything was normal and in order, just as it always is. Mere hours later, I am on the lamb with a crazy woman, and here I sit in a shit-hole, with a bottle of Jack, waiting for Daisy Duke to put on some professional attire, so I can just conduct the fucking business I originally set out to accomplish today. Christ. I run my fingers through my hair. I'll probably be bald at forty. I take the glass and vigorously wipe it out with the bottom of my tie. The alcohol should kill the rest of the germs. I pour a shot and throw it back.

And wait.

Maybe one more might truly be necessary as I throw the second shot back I see her… I begin to choke.

"Hey! Slow down, Mr. C. I didn't take you for a whisky guy. I sortta pictured you sipping some Chardonnay or White Zinfandel kinda crap."

"What the fuck are you wearing?" I pour another shot quickly and swallow. Then set the glass down.

"The outfit you wanted me to wear."

"No! No, I did not select any such outfit. I remember precisely. I chose four different looks, and that is most certainly none of them."

Allowing my eyes to scan her entire length, I quickly commit every inch to memory, forcing a swallow down. Not quite sure where to start with all the things that are so wrong and yet make me begin to squirm in my seat. My eyes stay too long on her legs. In those heels, they appear to go on forever. They are nice and toned and she has pretty ankles. The shoes are red open toed high heels with black brocade. Her cute toes, covered in electric blue nail polish, peek out beneath the black hose; her craziness taunting me. Yes, she knows how to pick out shoes if the plan were to just bend her over the bar right here. Christ. I think the only thing she bought that I actually saw previously were the garter and hose. The skirt is too short to be professional in any sense of the word unless she is planning on picking up a few tricks before we actually get to Mr. McCarty's office. Then there is the crazy T-shirt I can't describe with a black leather biker's jacket over that.

And she is wearing a purple wig.

Never did a wig even occur to me, although I have been thinking about her crazy faux-dreads since the moment we met. Thoughts of dragging her into the salon at Nordstrom's and watching them decontaminate the smooth brown locks that I imagine lie beneath, did cross my mind. However after the dressing room fiasco, I thought it best to just get this day over with as quickly as possible.

Where the fuck did she get a purple wig in Nordstrom?

I simply need a god damned signature. She'll have to wait in the car.

"Let's go!" Tossing some cash on the bar, I unintentionally grab her hand to leave the joint. Her skin is soft.

"Wait, I didn't even get a drink."

"You are driving! You are not drinking. And you will be waiting in the car while I get the damn signature I need."

She gives me a pointed look but grasps back on my hold, following me to the car. Her hand is smooth, and I can't deny it feels good in mine. Really good. As we approach the vehicle, I notice the front right tire is flat.

FUCK!

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><p><strong>EN Okay folks that's all. Whadda ya think? What are they going to do now? Who else might we meet in Forks? Your reviews make us feel really good like Bella's hand in Eddie's. Are we courting now? We could serve ice tea on the porch as we steal a review.**


	10. The Cave Begins

**A/N Some of you may have noticed that all of our titles are derived from songs that can be found on our playlist for this fic. You can find the playlist on the profile. This chapters song is The Cave by Mumford & Sons, it sets the tone, take a listen.**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. Clearly what we are doing with these characters is hardly recognizable, but we want to make it clear this is all for fun.**

**Collide**

**Chapter 10**

**The Cave Begins**

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><p><strong>EPOV<strong>

"Weird..." she says, inspecting the tires. "Maybe I ran over a nail or something. You know after you insisted I find somewhere to change pronto."

"Don't go blaming this on me."

"Quit sweating it. It's a flat tire. I think I have a spare."

"Think?" I shout, getting aggravated.

"Well, I never got a flat tire before. I think it's in the trunk. " I shake my head at her before walking over to the back of the car. I pop the trunk open and am shocked. It's clean, brand new vinyl clean. She peers in over my shoulder.

"Huh." She inspects the trunk. "I never even knew I had this much space back here. I never opened the trunk before."

"Who doesn't open their trunk?" I shake my head and ignore her. I start to lift the vinyl up and she stops me.

"Uu..uh..uh, Mr. C. You can't just go poking and prodding Rosie like that. You haven't even taken her out on a proper date yet." She wags her eye brows at me and proceeds to climb into the trunk—mini skirt, heels and all. She is standing up but bent over. Her ass is literally in my face. I catch myself licking my lips. She got the matching panties. Christ, Cullen. Concentrate. Look away. I hear her huffing and puffing and putting up quite a struggle.

"Here, let me—" Just as I offer to help, she flies out of the trunk, propelling us both onto the dirt and gravel.

We are both on our backs. I'm covered in dirt, and she has torn her stockings and one of her feet is missing a shoe. This day just keeps getting worse. As I get up I extend my hand to help her up.

"Thanks. So no tire..." She smiles innocently.

I look at my watch and notice it's already after 4 pm. There is no way we are going to make it to McCarty's office by five.

"I have to make a phone call. Why don't you go in there and see if your friend can call a tow truck for us." She looks insulted. Did I say something wrong?

She laughs. "Rosie does not get towed! I'll call Sam and have him bring a tire to us." Instead of looking for her other shoe like a normal person, she takes the remaining shoe off and walks into the bar—barefoot.

After I arrange to meet with Mr. McCarty first thing in the morning, I make my way back inside. Bella is behind the bar on the phone while mixing drinks. She places a drink next to the man sitting to my left. She cracks open a beer for another customer.

"Yeah, I saw Whit. I know... I know. A Statie. Aint that a trip? So, you'll help me? Awesome. Thanks, Sammy baby. I owe you one! No, do not tell Emily that. She will kill me. Alright, baby cakes. See you soon." I watch her with rapt interest as she hangs up the phone and spins a grey goose bottle in her hand, making a perfect pour. She slides it across the bar to another customer.

"Everything all set?" I ask her.

"Yeah. A buddy of mine is coming down with a tire. It will be about 45 minutes. We could still make it—"

"I already made arrangements for tomorrow. Besides, neither of us could go there looking like this. I guess we will have to find a place to stay for the night. I take it Forks doesn't have a Westin?" I'm not an idiot I'm attempting humor.

She makes a scheming face, lips pursed and eyebrows raised. "Yo, James!"

The bartender graces us with his presence. He pours himself a shot. "What can I do for you, Busy?"

"You still got the loft above the bar?"

"Still the way you left it, baby." He smiles warmly, and I start to think there is more between them then just a bartender/patron relationship.

"Rock on!" She hops over the bar and sits down next to me. "So, we got a place to crash. The car will be fixed. We're good to go." She pours some Jack Daniels into a shot glass and tosses back like it's water. "James, you got something bigger?"

He places a rocks glass in front of her. She fills it to the top, and I give her a questioning look. She's not driving so I can't really stop her. I am a little apprehensive considering she is crazy enough sober. What the hell is she going to be like drunk? For once, in what feels like forever, I decide to go with the flow. I really don't have any other options at the moment. I signal to James for a larger glass as well. She smiles wickedly before pouring me a healthy serving of booze.

I flip the buttons on my wrists and roll the cuffs of my shirt back twice. "Cheers," I offer, raising my glass to her as I proceed to drink my troubles away.

Before I have a chance to put my glass down at the bar she is gone. I suddenly hear the familiar twangy guitar riffs. I turn around to see Bella walking away from the jukebox. She starts dancing in the middle of the bar...all by herself. I am mesmerized. I watch the way her hips sway. She moves so free, like a bird flying under the summer sun and a purple-haired goddess tripping on 'shrooms. She even nails that cajun rhythm. This girl is full of surprises as the beat consumes her and she is this song.

She's a summer love in the spring, fall and winter

She can make happy any man alive...

She's got everything delightful

She's got everything I need

That exact question swirls in my brain with the newly acquired alcohol. Does she have everything I need? I watch her rip off the purple wig at the end of the song. Her hair is a hot sticky mess. She has little beads of sweat along her brow and above her perfect cupid's bow. A part of me, and at this point I'm not sure how dominant that part is, wants to lick that drop of sweat right off of her lip. She walks back over to me and sits down placing the wig on the bar next to her. I stare at her and for the first time I really look at her. She is crazy beautiful.

"I'm dying to know," I say, slurring slightly. "Where did you find that wig at Nordstrom's?"

"You think I bought this?" She starts to laugh. "I had it in my bag."

I smile. I really smile at her. Only Bella would carry a purple wig around with her. I can't lie. It makes me like her a little more.

"Well you did buy these I take it?" Holding up the pair of shoes she had abandoned here and there. They are designer shoes and shouldn't be tossed around so haphazardly.

"Oh, thanks. I almost forgot. I was a little side tracked when you were so obviously irritated with me and Rosie."

"I'm sorry. But these are expensive shoes. Maybe…"

"Wow! Two apologies from you in such a short time? And I am well aware of the cost of a fantastic pair of Louboutin's. I purchased them remember."

I just look at her in disbelief. She purchased them with my card. But I'm not an ass and I am not concerned about the money so I don't point that out. I just raise an eyebrow and take another sip of whiskey.

"You know, Mr. C, things are just things. The world is full of things. Things are replaceable..."

I listen to her words, really listen. I can tell there is more she wants to say. "I suppose you're right." She's insightful.

Then I decide in my alcohol induced haze to do something so out of character for me—nowadays. I noticed a guitar in the corner behind the bar earlier and while the crazy Swan was still changing I spoke to the sleazy blond dude about it briefly. With my new found whiskey courage, I hop across the bar this time and notice her jaw slack a bit. I tug my shirt out of my pants the rest of the way and loosen my tie further. I yank up the instrument, drag a chair to the edge of the bar and begin to strum the chords as I attempt an acoustical version of Sweet Child O' Mine.

I haven't played or sung for anyone in so long but it feels raw and real—alive. Trainwreck has done something to me or maybe I'm inebriated. Either way I guess it sounds pretty good because she is standing and swaying her hips and the few other patrons filtering in the doors are watching with hushed whispers. I finish and Sugar Magnolia-Swan, jumps on top of the bar and puts her fingers in her mouth and whistles.

"Well let's give it up for Papa C."

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><p><strong>EN So talk to us. Reviews keep us motivated. Also if you haven't already you can add us to author alerts so whenever we update new stuff, you will receive an alert. Thank you again to all who continue to read and review we enjoy each and every one! Without your response this wouldn't be nearly as fun.**


	11. A Lack of Colour, in my Face

**A/N If you haven't listened to any of the songs take a listen to this one, it's a great song and an integral part of this chapter. A lack of Colour by Death Cab for Cutie.**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. We are as previously stated simply domestic goddesses, who find sanity in taking certain liberties with SM's characters.**

**Collide**

**Chapter 11**

**A Lack of Colour (in my face)**

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><p><strong>BPOV<strong>

He places the guitar down and walks towards me.

"So since I enjoyed your interpretive dance to Sugar Magnolia, I figured you for a Dead Head. Jerry was the man, but I decided to take a chance on a little Guns N'Roses." He smirks at me and takes a seat at the bar. It's slightly out of character for him and it makes my knees weak. He could break a heart with that smirk.

"Oh, I know Guns N'Roses, big C daddy." I cut behind him quickly and pick up the abandoned guitar, and I smirk right back at him as I challenge him with my eyes.

I can't remember the last time I held a guitar in my hands. It feels like home, except for the fact that my hands are sweaty and sliding all over the place. I try to strum out an arpeggio, my slick fingers missing the strings. I take a deep breath and concentrate. I don't know why I decide to try and play. After seeing him up there, the song just pops into my head. There is so much more to him that I can see. I don't know why he hides, or what he's trying to put on. Maybe he is hurtiing too and this is his defense mechanism, but I choose another path. My confidence is back, and I start to sing.

"And when I see you..." I lift my eyes from the instrument and look him in the eye "...I really see you upside down."

I can't make out the expression on his face. He's starring at me, watching and listening. I sing the words to him, my observations. I want him to know I know better. It's just an act. Him, me... we're all just playing a part, trying to make our pieces fit into the puzzle known as the universe.

"But my brain knows better. It picks you up and turns you around." I continue to sing.

EPOV

I watch with rapt attention as I realize exactly what she is attempting to play. A chill runs through me. Even in my foggy haze, I'd recognize this anywhere. How would she know this? She is slightly off tempo as I find myself moving behind her to slow her feminine fingers. I am wholly unprepared for the warmth emanating from her tender soft skin as my hands hover slightly above hers, guiding her until she finds the tempo.

Her gentle voice blankets the bar, and I let it fill me as I listen. My body still hovers, my hands still gently ghosting over hers, mimicking every strum.

My mouth is slightly open as I watch her over her shoulder. She really is beautiful-uniquely beautiful and strangely captivating. She turns her head away from the guitar and looks up at me. I hold my breath, getting lost in her deep warm eyes.

"Please don't worry lover..." The way she looks at me when she says "lover" sends a surge through me.

"It's really bursting at the seams from absorbing everything, the spectrums from a to z." Is that what I have been missing? She is full of color and life and everything I have missed for so long.

She makes me feel things I never imagined and I find myself taking over the next few lines and sing back to her. She continues the steady rhythm as I confess to her.

"This is fact not fiction, for the first time in years. And all the girls in every girlie magazine

can't make me feel any less alone..." Except for you. I'm being real with her. My soul sings the truth.

The chorus comes up and our voices mingle and embrace in the smokey bar. Then she continues to play but I begin singing the last part on my own just over her shoulder, my breath caressing her cheek. Suddenly she joins back in and our voices once again combine to fill the small bar. Her gentle fingers slow and the last note hovers briefly before the whistles and catcalls draw my attention away from her and back to our surroundings that have now become suddenly more crowded.

"You have a beautiful voice, Bella…" I grasp the guitar, as she turns to face me.

"You've got some chords on you too. You don't look like an Indie rock kind of guy, though."

"I'm not forty. Although you might think I have a huge stick up my ass, you could have been rash in your judgment of me as well." I walk back to the bar and throw back another shot. What the hell just happened?

She joins me and takes a swig of her own over-sized shot as someone selects a song on the jukebox in the corner. We just sit and stare for a moment. I wish I could read her mind and know what she is thinking at this moment, but Bella is one tough read. I'm not sure anyone has ever been allowed inside that head of hers. That's when I realize someone selected some country crap, and Bella is once again singing along, squirming on her stool. She also seems to have some very eclectic musical taste, and I am horrified to discover that I too know the lyrics so I join in lowering my voice and adding a bit of a twang. As we sing and sip, I realize how fitting this song is as well.

"… She's my little whiskey girl…" we both belt out in harmony and inebriation apparently.

By the end of the song we are both grinning stupidly, and I can't seem to think straight. I am unable to recall the last time I have had this much to drink and whiskey…well it has definitely been a while. As a matter of fact I can't recall the last time I've had this much...dare I say...fun.

"So, big daddy C, where do we stand on the age thing exactly?"

"Pardon me? Look, I'm not old enough to be your daddy. I'm thirty-four and I have a name. It's Edward. Please use it." Yep. She still irritates the crap out of me but damn there is something about her.

"Okaaaay Edward. OHMIGOD I flove this jam, come on!" Suddenly she is several octaves higher and screaming as she yanks my hand and drags my body to the center of this dive bar to dance. Did she just say flove? What does that even mean? I shake my head. Now this is a song I have no clue about, but I couldn't care less as I stand stock-still, watching Bella move her hips to the beat running her hands down her slim curves and over her swaying hips. Holy shit.

"What's wrong, Eddie? Can't dance?"

My eyes tighten and all I can envision is proving her wrong as she screams my name. I have no idea what the hell is happening to me. It is like she has awakened some kind of monster inside of me. I grab her hips and before I know it, we are moving together to this club-like rap music. Actually, it seems strangely familiar from our long journey in the car today. She just continues to wiggle and squirm as she backs herself in to me. She has definitely stirred a response in me. My breath is staggered and all I can think about is this crazy girl, this complete and utter trainwreck and how badly I want to derail her right now. Fuck!

I don't have control of anything at the moment. I can't think straight, and I don't even really know where we are. How the hell can one insane broad make me lose all sense and allow my mind slip into oblivion? Fuck, she feels so soft and smooth, rubbing up against me. I can't do this. The song ends and I rush towards the men's room to clear my head and breathe.

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><p><strong>EN Okay time for a little heavy. We freaking love the response so far, for our little crazy-train. Thanks again to all who continue to read, review, and add us to alerts!**

**So whadda ya'll think now? Reviews get responses. Questions, comments, kudos; leave us some.**


	12. Memory and Reality

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. All the stuff you don't recognize that shit is ours!**

**Collide**

**Chapter 12**

**Memory and Reality**

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><p><strong>BPOV<strong>

I'm left standing on the dance floor, waiting for Cullen to clean up his man juice. Well, maybe that is a tad presumptuous of me, but we were grinding and getting pretty hot. I guess I like to think that maybe I can have that effect on him. He is my boss, for the moment, and I should exhibit some restraint even if it's just to maintain the ruse of professionalism. There is just something about him that I can't shake. My body moves on its own accord when he's around and my mind... My mind sees what he could be, what he used to be.

Dad doesn't think I remember her. She died when I was four. I don't remember much, but I do remember one of the most important conversations of my young life.

"Everybody has their one person. Your heart will sing and your soul will know. Sometimes you have to scrape off all the junk and crud they put on there. What's underneath was made just for you."

I wonder if that's why my father hates me so much. I'm too much like her—a free spirit, soaring wherever the wind will take me. I think he's still mad at her for leaving us. It's not her fault. What's that saying? God must need another angel or some silly thing they tell kids they think are too young to understand death. I understood perfectly. Life is too short. After Emmett, I vowed never to waste another minute pretending to be something I'm not.

My thought process goes back to the man in question. Edward. The way his name rolls of my tongue sends shivers up my spine. Maybe that's why I refuse to call him by name. I don't really know what's going on here. There are things I know I shouldn't do and things I need to do. The heart wants what the heart wants. At the moment, we're both slightly inebriated. Whatever happens between us can be blamed on the a-a-a-a-alcohol. Jamie Foxx, get out of my brain!

I walk back over to the bar and wait for him. I pour another drink and consult with my good friend, Mr. Daniels.

"What are we going to do, Jackie?" I forgo the glass and take a swig from the bottle. "This could be very bad."

"But it could be great." The hand swipes the bottle away from me. "Don't you think you've had enough?" James asks, pouring himself a shot.

"When has anything ever been enough for me, baby?" He smirks at me.

"Don't I know it. You know, when you left without a note or a forwarding address, I figured you moved on. But you moved on to some uptight stick in the mud? I don't get it."

I place my hand over his and look up at him through my drunken gaze. I pout slightly.

"Aww, did I hurt your feelings?"

I'm fucking with him now. I know he didn't really care about me. We just used each other. The only reason he's bringing it up now is because his ego is bruised. I'm here with Edward. If I was here alone, he would probably make me work the bar and then give me a good romp in the sheets. I wouldn't have minded. Now the thought of his hands, or any other man's hands on me, makes me want to crawl out of my skin for reasons I can't begin to comprehend.

He smooths his hand over his gelled ponytail.

"Nah." He gives me a cocky smile. "He just doesn't seem like your type."

"He's not," I say defensively. I'm not sure who I am defending, me or Edward. "He's my boss."

"Really?" James questions, looking completely surprised. "No way." He shakes his head and lets out a laugh.

"Is it that hard to believe that I could get a legitimate job instead of bartending here?"

"Easy, Busy. I'm not trying to start a fight. Just the way you two were eye fucking each other up on that stage and then the bump and grind out on the dance floor... I figured there was more to it. Are you two like a traveling Sonny and Cher show? Or maybe Donnie and Marie. I like it. I can definitely see you with your own variety hour."

I scowl at him and remember why I only stayed at the bar for a month. He can be a complete ass when his top dog status is threatened.

Eye fucking? Is that what we were doing?

Cullen finally walks out of the bathroom and exchanges a lustful look with me. He approaches the bar and breaks the awkward silence between James and I.

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><p><strong>EN Okay if you want more, back-story, current-story or drunken sexy times...let us know. We love hearing all your theories and suggestions. Although the fate of this fic has been decided we love to know what you are thinking.**


	13. Bach to the Past

**A/N Once again thanks to the continued readership for this fic. Your comments and tidbits make us giggle, laugh, and smile! Also if you have PM's turned off on FFnet then we cannot respond to your reviews. Just know we read them and if you would like a repose turn PM's on.**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. All the stuff you don't recognize, that train-wreck is still ours. In other words here comes some back story.**

**Collide**

**Chapter 13**

**Bach to the Past**

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><p><strong>EPOV<strong>

Once inside the restroom I try to focus on my surroundings. Okay I'm in a shit-hole—literally—and I'm slightly inebriated. Think, Cullen…Christ. I walk towards the rust stained porcelain sink and turn on the water as the pipes squeak to life. I shake off the thought of how many rare and random diseases probably thrived in this restroom or just in this sink alone. I splash the cold water on my face and try to focus on my reflection. I hardly recognize the man in the mirror—he looks—relaxed.

Fuck. How can one workday be turned completely upside-down and… Upside-down? I'm not sure if the fact that Bella can play guitar or her chosen song selection, Lack of Colour by Death Cab for Cutie, is more of a shock. The moment I hear the first few notes hit the air so many memories flood my mind...

_Christ, I wasn't so unlike Bella back in those days. I was accepted to Julliard and barely eighteen when I arrived. I was so excited at first, everything a sensory experience. Then I got caught up in the sense of freedom the music provided. Up until that point, I followed a strict regimen of lessons and practice all leading up to my attendance at Julliard. I started off the right way, attending classes and playing at night. I craved more and more until eventually, I avoided sleep altogether, wanting only to perfect my craft. Before I knew it, I needed help to stay awake—chemical help. I justified that to be a true artist you needed to experiment and lose control to seek your inner creativity—so I did. I was rarely sober and I experimented with sex and substances. I only wanted to create a high so that I could expand my mind and music, but I was lured into a world of seekers. It was the wrong crowd but I believed their proclamations of, "It's all about the music, man."_

_It was always about the music for me until I met Tanya. Tanya played the cello. She was the one who tried to finally pull my head out of my ass. She wanted me to wake up and realize I was too talented to let my life circle the drain. I began missing more classes and became dependent on uppers. They were dragging me down and holding me back, but I didn't see it. I acquiesced to the lure of the freedom and the chemical haze. She became irritated and controlling. I wasn't willing to change my lifestyle and I realized too late that Tanya had truly been the only one who ever cared. Everyone else, they were takers and enablers._

_She finally gave up on my sorry ass. After several months of meaningless encounters and simply uninspired music, I was finally given notice of my impending dismissal from Julliard's classical guitar program. They were interested in serious students with focus, dedication and a desire to learn. Apparently that wasn't who I was, anymore. After I was dismissed from the school, I decided I needed to reevaluate. It was time to grow the fuck up and get my shit together. I cleaned myself up and leaned on my family for support. It was slightly humiliating, but I knew they always loved and supported me no matter what, especially my sister Alice. I was a selfish asshole, never realizing how good I had it until then. Eventually, I tried to contact Tanya but it was too late and she had truly moved on. She was happy and I was—alone._

_I changed schools and my focus to architecture which I had also always loved. A fresh start, a clean slate. I'd decided that I could use my creativity in a very controlled situation. I craved the control, refusing to ever let go and fall off the deep end once again. I could control everything; I could create and still control every aspect of my entire life…until I met Bella._

The song Bella chose was released when I was already in my second year working at Newton's. And something about it at the time spoke to me. I had a mini moment of self pity at the way my life had unfolded. Being seemingly stuck in a passionless company brought up all the buried memories I tried to put behind me. So I did the only thing I knew. I reigned in the regrets and I controlled every aspect of my life, not allowing time for self-pity. I think it was Bella's voice that surprised me the most and how her eyes seemed to be singing straight to me?

Christ! I am just as insane as that crazy girl out there. Fuck. I'm sure the alcohol isn't helping matters but a part of me wants to walk right out there and just loose all final restraint and just back her against the bar and get lost inside her eyes and soft skin. Lost in her like I used to get lost in the music.

I pat my face and shut the water off, silencing the noisy pipes before I head back out to the bar.

As I walk towards the bar I notice the sleazy douche bartender talking with Bella, so I hang back slightly and see if I can catch any of what is being exchanged between them. I watch the interaction and notice Bella's increased discomfort; she is fidgeting with her fingers. I hear the word "Boss" drift down the bar and then Mr. Sleaze says, "Donnie and Marie." I'm not sure what comes over me, but I feel a growing need to protect her. Suddenly, she seems so vulnerable.

I make myself seen and stroll right up, obviously interrupting the conversation.

"Donnie and Marie were siblings right?" I throw a hard glance at Mr. Sleaze. "And I'm pretty sure siblings don't engage in the kind of activities I have planned for Ms. Swan later, so if you'll excuse us..." I don't wait for a reply from either of them. I just decide that the shock value will be priceless and go for it. Maybe Bella's constant mention of me loosening up finally gets to me.

I reach around and grasp her waist, spinning her around quickly. My mouth meets hers before she can process what is happening and our lips finally greet each other. Our soft flesh glides together intimately as I take control, the control I know and crave, and before I realize, her hands shoot up to my shoulders, grasping a hold tightly. Our tongues now touch as the kiss gains momentum; it's raw and intense as her fingers ghost up my neck and into my hairline.

Fuck! I hadn't really thought this through, and now suddenly hyper-aware of our surroundings I still can't bring myself to stop. Her lips are definitely dangerous. Her kiss is laced with something I've never had a hit of, propelling me, driving me deeper. Our bodies begin to respond and I simply can't get enough—like we crave each other.

"Ugh..um… Bella?" A deep voice interrupts our public display of affection daze. And Bella is the first to break away and speak.

"Sam?" she questions. The intensity of the moment wanes and is trumped by awkwardness.

I decide now is a good time for another drink.

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><p><strong>EN So this is just the beginning...Hang on lots to come this week! Talk to us we can't read minds like Edward, so leave a review to let us know what you think.**


	14. Tik Tok Time for a Shower

**A/N So many of you liked E's back story, how about more on Bella now?**

**Collide**

**Chapter 14**

**Tik Tok Time for a Shower**

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><p><strong>BPOV<strong>

"Busy!"

He holds out his strong tawny arms and I run, crashing into him. His warmth comforts me and for the first time Forks feels like home. He nuzzles his nose into my neck and places an innocent kiss on my sparrow tattoo.

"God, I missed you," he whispers.

"You act like I died."

He gives me a half smile, starring me down with his dark, sad eyes. It just occurs to me that maybe he thought I did. I just stopped talking to him, no explanations.

I pull away and look him up and down. Emily is good for him. She is reliable and keeps him in line, something I could never do. My past with Sam is difficult to explain.

He was one of Emmett's best friends and my past lover. Emmett and I went through some rough patches before Charlie decided we should get married. Emmett was an all-star football champion. He was going places...places Busy Izzy couldn't follow. He was heading for the big time. He needed a cookie cutter wife to don an apron and a Stepford wife hairdo. That wasn't me. Sam was the resident fuck up and we just bonded. We smoke and drank, imagining life outside of the Forks Funk. He dropped out of school sophomore year and opened his own garage. I would skip lame classes and shoot the shit with him. That was how I was able to keep Rosie in tip top shape.

Besides, It wasn't like I had anything better to do. Forks was so tiny it was terrifying. I was suffocating and drowning in a life that didn't belong to me. I knew my mother stayed for love, but I hadn't found that yet. I loved Emmett but not in the way he needed. Sam and I were kindred spirits, two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl...Man, I loved that song. What we had was transcendental. We meshed, our life fibers woven with thread made from Teflon—unbreakable. The thing with Sam and I was that it didn't matter if we were together as long as we were happy. If he was happy then I could do anything...I could be happy.

I ended up cheating on Emmet with Sam. I felt bad about it, but not bad enough to regret it. I had a feeling Em was doing something else on the side, anyway. Sometimes, he wouldn't answer my calls; there were several times I drove by his house knowing he would be home but wasn't.

After Sam and I missed the playoff game to go get a tattoo in Port Angeles, we had it out. I thought it was the end of us for sure. I mean who wouldn't dump their girlfriend for porking their best friend. I guess we were too caught up in pleasing everyone else, we decided to stay together even if it wasn't good for either of us. I knew Emmett's heart wasn't in it and neither was mine. I cut all ties after graduation in hopes of releasing his heart that I held onto for far too long.

I stayed in touch with Sam for as long as I could. It was hard to give him up. He used to call me his "Drunkard's Dream" like in that song because, "if he sprung a leak, I'd mend him. He didn't have to speak, I'd defend him." We were two crazy kids, wrecking havoc and trying to fit into small town living. It didn't work for me, but I knew he would eventually find his place.

I wrote him letters and called him as often as I could but then he got together with Emily, and I just couldn't do it anymore. He was happy...

"Emily looks like she's been feeding you well," I say. The scrawny kid from the days of summer has huge arms and rippling muscles under his shirt. I feel like he walked off the cover of a Harlequin novel. "Is there something in the water?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

"No, but I would say there is something in the Jack. What the hell were you doing making out with Bill Gates?"

I look over to Edward at the bar and he is quickly downing more whiskey. The Bill Gates reference is a bit much. He's not that bad. I like to think of him has a white Carlton from the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. You know there's a freak under there just dying to get out.

"I don't really have an answer for that. I don't know what I'm doing." I cover my face with my hands and shake my head. The vulnerability consumes me. I'm in a place I vowed never to come back to, and I'm having feelings for a man that I know is probably emotionally off limits. Someone that anal had to have been hurt by love or life or both.

"Come home." It's a statement, a demand.

"I can't." This is not up for discussion. There is nothing left for me in Forks.

"You'd be surprised at how different things are. How people change..." I stop him before he can start.

"Why do people keep saying that? That man will never change. He's so set in his stubborn ways he lost the only person he had left. I have nothing to say to him."

Sam knows me so he doesn't push. He gives me another chaste kiss on my cheek and starts to walk outside to tend to Rosie. He turns around and calls over his shoulder, "You know if you and your boyfriend are staying longer then the night, you should stop by. Emily and the girls would love to see you."

I stick my tongue out at him and narrow my eyes. Boyfriend? Psssh. That man is incapable of normal human interaction. I can't help but think about what Sam said. People do change. He has a wife and twin girls, and he is happy. It leaves me wondering if I missed my chance.

I walk over to Edward and yank the bottle away from him and take a long swig. I sit down at the stool next to him. I can feel his imploring stare on me. I look at him and for the first time, it doesn't look like contempt. His eyes are slightly glazed over from the booze but more clear then I have ever seen them. I try to think of something snarky to say but I'm at a loss. Sam's words haunt me, and I feel overwhelmed and lost in a town that I can find my way around in a drunken stupor with my eyes closed. I don't like the way he's looking at me, like he's worried. It makes me uncomfortable after the kiss we shared. It was like be struck by lightning for the second time, the first being when I saw his face. The stars and planets align; the big bang in our very own dive bar. The last time something like that happened, the universe was created. The anticipation of what's to come and what could be hurts my fuzzy brain. I need a shower.

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><p><strong>EN So on that note we bid you adieu until we meet again folks. *whispers* Next chappie has a lot in store. *wink***


	15. Sex on Fire, Beneath My Touch

**A/N Hmm... What is in store for these two today?**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. Although I am not sure you will recognize these characters. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Collide**

**Chapter 15**

**Sex on Fire beneath My Touch**

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><p><strong>EPOV<strong>

Well, that went well...or not. At least we got a tire, but now Bella is acting strange. Obviously this is a small town and she has a past here. But I really don't want to go there. It seems like she's hurting though, and all I want to do is comfort her. But I don't. We both sit silently and sip more whiskey. She suddenly breaks the silence and announces she needs a shower. Grabbing her bag, she takes off to the loft above the bar. I let her leave, deciding she probably needs the privacy. I remain at the bar for a few more swigs and songs before I decide to go check on her just in case she needs something.

Climbing the stairs around the back of the bar that lead to the loft, I check the handle. It's unlocked.

"Bella," I call out, not knowing the layout of the space and not wanting to surprise or scare her.

"Hey Mr. C, the shower is all yours." She thrusts the door open and speaks as she hovers in the doorway covered in only a skimpy towel, her long hair damp and hanging. So much of her pure white skin is exposed and her electric blue toes are taunting me. I'm breathing and not moving. I just stare.

"You okay there Mr. C? The water is still hot but there was only one towel, so you'll have to use this." HolyfuckingChrist. I clear my throat and look away quickly as she passes in front of me and removes her towel and tosses it at me. I take it and rush into the bathroom shutting and locking the door behind me. _What the fuck was that?_ Damn, I am having a hard time controlling anything now. I definitely want her, but I can't. I mean that is so wrong. She is… and I am…. And we are drunk. Does she want me to? Fuuuuck! I definitely need a shower, a cold one. I shower quickly and try to force the image of her fantastic tight ass and sweet curves, moving sinuously under the rain of the steaming shower, from my mind. I resist the urge to rub one out like a douche. Christ, once again she has managed to frustrate and excite me all at once.

I reluctantly use the towel she had clinging to her naked body and notice a trace of her delicate scent. I wrap the insignificant piece of terrycloth around my waist and open the door. Then I see her. Bella is on the center of the bed, the only bed in the room, wearing her hooter half shirt and a pair of boy shorts. _Fuck me._ She looks sexy as hell and knowing what lies beneath, taunts me further. She has some paper towels spread out with some olives, orange segments, and cherries, and I see our bottle of Jack nearly empty on the side table.

"Hungry Mr. C? Wanna olive or a cherry? I ordered a pizza but they said it would be an hour or so. I'm starving, so I grabbed some things from the bar and decided we could have a picnic."

I just stare at her for a moment. "A picnic? On the bed? With bar garnishes?" I swallow and stare. " I think I could use another drink."

"Here you go, daddy-o." She hands me the bottle, and I take a small swallow as I notice her eye inspecting my rather exposed body. She seems to appreciate what she sees. I'm a runner and I take care of my body, meticulously. I can't lie. I really like her staring at me, and I think I let another smirk escape.

Toting the bottle of Jack with me, I step towards the dresser where I notice her iPod. I finger it and find what I am looking for. I remember her mentioning it earlier, and I really like this version, plus I find it very fitting for my current frame of mind. The first few notes ignite the air and Muses's version of Feeling Good begins to surround us.

"Come here!" I demand. Locking eyes with her widened stare. I'm feeling a strange sense of _control_ now, although my intentions should be questioned further. I decide at that moment, I don't care and it's freeing.

She doesn't speak, but she approaches, slowly. I grab her and turn her around pressing her back to my chest. Lifting her right arm and grasping her wrist, I hold it out as I begin to finger the delicate skin at her wrist, like I am experimenting with the different frets of a new piece of music. _You know how I feel..._ I hear the song as begin to play her.

_It's a new dawn, it's a new day..._

My other hand crosses her bare midriff and my fingers ghost and strum over her soft flesh. I hear a slight murmur leave her lips and decide to continue. As my fingers find the rhythm and mimic her breathing, deep and shallow all at once, I whisper in her ear.

"You have to feel the music. Become one with the instrument and coax the notes into being."

I hear her swallow as I continue to glide my fingers across her body as if she were a live guitar in very capable hands.

Her body is humming and her skin feels electric underneath my touch.

_Stars when you shine..._

Every brush of skin so innocent yet very erotic, her head lolls back onto my shoulder and I tighten my grasp on her wrist.

_You know how I feel..._

Her breathing stills. I'm lost inside the music and her heady scent. I want her. I want to make her mine in this moment. I want to create music with her—from her.

Before my mind catches up, my fingers slide lower on the imaginary strings of her belly as I continue to tease and manipulate her wrist and upper arm, hearing the music fill my head. As my left hand drifts dangerously lower, her breaths and moans urge my continuance. I acquiesce gladly, allowing my left hand to hover above the cotton between her thighs, briefly. Then I carry on and play, teasing her music box through her boy shorts.. Fuck. She comes alive under my touch.

_Yeah, freedom is mine..._

_When you know how I feel..._

"Can you feel the music…Bella? Flying high? God you're so sexy," I whisper into her neck. Her response is wordless, but extremely vocal. And she begins to wiggle and squirm beneath my touch.

I tighten my grasp again on her wrist and cup her between her thighs feeling the damp cotton.

"Un…uh!" I shake my head as I hold her still against my hard body. "As much as you seem to play the flighty free spirit, I know better. You need this...want this. I've decided you're my chosen instrument tonight,and I'm not done playing. Relax and just feel my touch—the music," I whisper into her ear.

Resuming my song on her body, her neck rolls side to side in time on my shoulder while the rest of her body remains under my tutelage. I quicken the tempo and slide her panties to the side allowing my fingers to graze her bare, swollen clit. She wiggles again and it causes my towel to fall to the floor. Stilling my movements and hers, I thrust my fingers inside her hot pussy. I just breathe for a beat. In and out, pumping, tapping, and swirling the erotic melody. Deep inside. Her loud moans echoing in the small room. Then there is a knock at the door.

"Fuck!" we both exclaim at the exact same time.

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><p><strong>EN Did we end it there? Why yes we did. Perhaps you wanted to hear from Bella today? We... could possibly be persuaded to do so if you talk dirty to us.**


	16. Sex on Fire, in Capable Hands

**A/N So seems you wanted more you pervy h00rs...**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. Although I am not sure you will recognize these characters. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Collide**

**Chapter 15 1/2**

**Sex on Fire in Capable Hands**

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><p><strong>BPOV<strong>

_What the hell just happened?_ Whatever it is feels extremely good...really fucking good, like better than Jake, my dildo. My girly bits are still tingling as I shimmy out of Edward's arm, barely able to stand. My legs are wonky, and I feel like Bambi learning how to walk for the very first time. I scramble to get to the door. My coordination fails me as my elbow makes contact with that perfectly chiseled face.

"Crap! Sorry, Mr. C!" Of course I have to make things more awkward and stress the fact that he is my boss. _Jesus, Bella. Do you make it a habit of letting upper management play you like a guitar while the stick their fingers into your honey pot?_

Edward scurries off to the bathroom while I attempt to answer the door. Typically this would bother me. _I mean man up, right?_ But clearly he is naked and I have something resembling clothes on my body at the moment. So I decide to let it slide, well and the fact he turns me into Jell-O definitely gives him extra points to his advantage. I open the door to see Mr. Pizza Face standing with his jaw hanging open.

"What's the matter, kid? Never see a half-naked girl before?" He blinks rapidly and doesn't move his mouth. I snatch the box away from him and slam the door in his face.

I know it's not his fault, but I am extremely sexually frustrated at the moment, not to mention mortified at what transpired back there. _What the hell was I thinking letting that happen?_

I plop myself down on the edge of the bed and open the pizza box, placing it on my lap as a makeshift table. I pick up a slice and shove half of it in my mouth. I'm hoping it will help absorb some of the alcohol and offer some clarity to the situation. I'm loaded and need to sober up before things get complicated. I need to apologize or do something to diffuse whatever fallout happens when he gets out of the bathroom.

My mind is swirling, not just from the booze. I have Sam's words, my past, and Edward running around in there. It's all colliding into one big jumbled mess, and I need to sort it out. I put the box behind me and bury my head in my hands. I try to tune everything out. I squeeze my eyes shut forcing the tears back. They don't belong here. Forks doesn't deserve my tears.

The people here know me, my quirks and all; it doesn't mean they can accept me. It's almost like they sent me away because they couldn't deal with me. I chose to leave, but it doesn't make things any easier. I've always been on my own. I got used to it. First I run into Jazz and man was it good to see him. Then Sam comes in all big brother, protective mode in full force, telling me to come home. _What would I come home for?_ _All of a sudden it's okay that I don't want to be Betty Crocker? Everyone will be okay with Busy Izzy wearing her drug rug and painting?_ I don't think so. I'm sure they will all be super accepting and welcome me home with open arms in the beginning, kind of like throwing me a bone before they pick me apart.

_No thank you._ I'd rather take my chances back in Seattle. The problem is Seattle isn't home either. I think about the things that matter to me—Garrett and Rosie. I'm leading a pretty pathetic existence cloaked in my zany behavior. Nothing has changed. I move on from one thing to the next faster than I have time to do my laundry: pottery, still life, wire sculpture...and that is just my art. There are the jobs I've had my hands in: marine biologist's assistant, bookstore employee, disc jocky...anything that catches my interest. Busy really is the perfect name for me.

Right now, between the thoughts of my failures and my need to escape, I can't stop thinking about Edward. His words hover in my foggy mind. "I know better. You need this, want this." All this time I've spent searching, trying to feel, and I've got it now. He doesn't see things exactly the way I do, but I know he can. The way he holds me, the way his fingers play me... I'm desperate for his touch. He is right. I need him. I know it will jeopardize my job, but I don't give a fuck. Besides, it's not like I haven't already.

I am usually all about impulse decisions but I actually devise a plan when he emerges from the bat cave. I am going to jump that man's bones and ride him like the prize pony he is. I won't take no for an answer. If he tries to stop me, I may just have to handcuff him to the bed. _I think I have my handcuffs in my bag. I wonder how he feels about fur?_ I doubt he's been laid in a while. Just the way he walks, all stuffed shirt and major blockage, tells me enough. I want to strip him down, not only out of his clothes, but down to the basics. I want him raw and real, just him and me in this shitty room.

When we were on stage together, I could feel the actual electricity pass through us. Shit like that doesn't happen and when it does, you need to grab hold of it and never let go. I know he must have felt it too because the way he handled me when we got back here... I've never been touched like that before. I don't know what's going to happen with us in the morning but that never stopped me before. I just need this right now. It's sobering to think someone who knows so little about me could know me so well.

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><p><strong>EN Sooooooo? Let us know:)**


	17. Animal inside my Head

**A/N We would like to take a moment to say thanks to some of our faithful readers whose comments fuel this fic. Deb, Sherbs, Kats Flower Girls, a big thanks for always leaving a review that knocks our socks off.**

**branchirps: Hey girly what you up to?**

**maxipoo: Oh same old shit, different day. Coffee, Rob worship, shower, Rob fap, lunch...**

**branchirps: Wow we really do have so much in common.**

**maxipoo: I'm willing to share...speaking of sharing... what will we be sharing with them today?**

**branchirps: Well I am pretty sure whatever it is... it's not entirely expected.**

**maxipoo: It depends on how well they get these two... either way, it's a good time. Maybe we will even inspire some readers to think "outside" of the box when it comes to bumping and grinding.**

**branchirps: Well, let's get to it. I guess we will find out soon enough what you all think.**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. Although I am not sure you will recognize these characters, nor their actions. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Collide**

**Chapter 16**

**Animal inside my Head**

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><p><strong>EPOV<strong>

Christ, can I get a fucking break today? The knock on the door sounds again and Bella stumbles out of my grasp as I bend down to grab my towel.

"Ow…damn." Her elbow whacks my left eye and cheekbone and I'm bent over in pain fumbling for my towel to cover up.

"Crap! I'm sorry Mr. C! I just…I'd better get the door."

"Ahgggg…." I moan out my frustration for the situation. My eye is the least of my worries. _Who the fuck is at the fucking door to a dive bar apartment anyhow? Fuck!_

I gather the thin strip of terrycloth around me and retreat to the bathroom as Bella opens the door for our visitor. I find my boxer briefs and slide them on before I make a reappearance. I have no idea what the fuck I am doing, but I don't stop to think. I always over think everything and tonight, I simply want to feel. As I make my way out into the small room, I notice Bella hunched over the side of the bed, her head in her hands and a pizza box sitting behind her. Pizza: the ultimate cock-block. I suddenly have an irrational distaste for pizza.

"Hey." I'm worried now that I have truly fucked up and crossed some kind of line. Fuck. Who am I kidding? I've crossed so many lines today, I'm not even sure which way is up. "Bella, are you ok?"

She just shakes her head inside her hands and I am frozen. Shit. All I want to do is touch her and make it better but then I think better of it. I am most likely the problem. _Christ, Cullen, you are probably the last person she wants to touch her. What the fuck were you thinking?_ She could sue me. I could get fired. But what freaks me out the most is that I seem care about her, not myself. I want to ease her woes. From what I have witnessed so far, she seems to have so many conflicting issues. This small town seems to have revealed yet another side to Bella as well, and I am not sure vulnerability suits her. Or maybe it scares me.

I just sit and breathe beside her for a moment and before I realize it, in one swift movement, she is on top of me and has me pinned to the bed. Her tiny frame, my instrument, hovers over me as her thighs cinch me tighter. As her heat radiates into me, my body responds automatically. But I need to be sure.

"Bella?"

"Damnit, Cullen! Just shut up and finish what you started." _All said vulnerability long forgotten._

"Umm…" I don't know why I hesitate but all of a sudden everything that made sense suddenly doesn't.

"What now? Is the thread count on the sheets not satisfactory to your uppity standards?" she quips.

"Huh? What the hell is that supposed to mean? That's what you think?" Now she is beginning to piss me off again. How this insanely beautiful train-wreck can go from vulnerable to vicious in mere seconds, baffles me.

"Well, I am practically begging you to continue and you look like something has crawled up your ass and died? What the hell?"

I lift her off of me and clamber out of the bed. Then I snatch her up to stand in front of me. As I remove the bottle of Jack from her hands that she grabbed along the way, I look deep into her eyes. And breathe.

"I think we have both had more than enough to drink."

"Whatever."

"You are acting like a petulant child. You're the one that ordered the pizza in the first place." I raise my right brow at her. At least I try, my haze of intoxication beginning to numb more of my receptors. Between her proximity and the haze of the alcohol, my desire for her seems to resurface with a vengeance. "Bella, tell me what you want. Please."

"I don't know?"

"Really?" I breathe into her neck and hover near her tattoo.

"Mmm…" Nothing but a sound escapes her tight lips. And her eyes are sad. All I want to do is make her…I just can't stand to see her like this. It seems so wrong, as if the sun's setting midday and the dark is rising. I just want to show her how she makes me feel. She seems so sad and I only want to know why. I want to fix it, help her. Sad is such a wrong emotion on her.

"Bella, you have to give me something here. Just say it. Tell me you really want me to continue. Tell me you want this. I need to know."

"Oh my God, can't you ever just let go! Do you even feel anything anymore? Do you know what feeling even is?"

That's it. My mouth comes crashing down on hers. I can't stand it anymore. I have no idea how this crazy inexplicable creature has turned me so upside down. But I can't even think straight, and all I want is to just feel her again. Touch her. Taste her. Our tongues collide and it is like a long awaited reunion. My breaths are just as labored as hers, and I can't get close enough to her now. Fuck, my head is spinning and all I can think is how I need more contact.

I guide her backwards and she stumbles grasping my boxers. I reach out to steady her and she bends down at the same time as I stub my toe on the bed's metal frame. Seemingly startled, she tilts her head up as she teeters and loses her balance griping my boxers for support. As she falls to a seated position on the bed, she unknowingly releases my dick and because of its aroused state, it catches on the band of my boxers and springs back, smacking her in the face.

"Ahhh…"

"Holy shit! I'm sorry. Are you okay?" I bend to kneel in front of her and her knee seems to meet my balls at that exact moment.

"Ohmyfuckingchrist ahhh…." Now I'm doubled over on the floor swearing, and she is rushing apologies at me.

I then lift my head at the exact moment she decides to bend over me, smacking her jaw with the backside of my skull.

"What the fuck is wrong with us? Bella, I'm so sorry are you alright?"

She is once again seated on the edge of the bed and now she is shaking with uncontrollable laughter. Her musical child-like laughter makes me smile, and I suddenly forget the entire clusterfuck. The pain isn't as easily forgotten; it lingers but I force it from my mind. I lean in now, urging her back and our mouths reunite like the forbidden lovers they have become. She tastes incredible and I want her something fierce. We finally begin to make progress as her hooters t-shirt keeps my boxers company on the floor.

Her hands are roaming all over my longing body, and I am teasing a hot wet trail up her collar to the small sparrow tattoo on her neck. I take the sensitive skin between my teeth and nibble the tiny art on her neck. She becomes more and more vocal as I make my way down to remove her boy shorts for good. My eager hand cups her ass and pauses before I slide the fabric on down and over her curvy hips. She shifts her weight and makes the removal easier as her sex is dangerously close to my face. Damn, I want to taste her and get lost deep inside her.

I reach both hands up under her hips and lift, moving her up towards the center of the bed. I notice a second too late that the pizza box still remains. The pizza is smashed and Bella reaches up underneath herself to grab the box, tossing it without missing a beat.

Never in all my life have I had such an utter fucking disaster fuck. I am never like this. But it doesn't deter me and it seems to bother her even less. I decide, as I take one last look in her eyes, that I need to get to the rising climax quickly before we possibly injure each other any further.

I hover over her naked body only for the briefest of seconds before I realize we should use some kind of protection. "Ugh...I think we should…I don't have any…" Bella rolls out from underneath me so quickly that I lose my bearings and fall on my face. I right myself, and she returns almost as instantly. It freaks me out a bit as she proudly produces a glow in the dark condom, holding it precariously close to my face.

"Good thing I carry supplies in my bag." Her eyes seem to darken as she glances from my face to my still unfazed dick, standing at attention. She palms my cock and rips the black and neon package with her teeth. A tiny piece of the black wrapper clings to her bottom lip as she tries to blow it off unsuccessfully. Her one hand is still working me, causing my eyes to roll back. She continues to blow and scrape the clinging scrap of wrapper with her teeth to rid it from her lip.

Watching enough of this never-ending disastrous foreplay, I rip the condom from her fingers place it on and flip her over to resume where we left off. I guide my throbbing cock towards her sweet pussy. Taking a couple of passes, coating my cock with her hot juices, I apply pressure and I slide off to the left and that's a miss. I back up slightly and aim again. Another miss, to the right. Fuck, she is so wet, I can't seem to gain proper access. _Fuck my life._

I don't know what comes over me. "A5"

Laughter fills the room. "That's a miss."

"B1"

"Another miss. Cullen, let me sink your fucking battleship already."

With one last well played move, Ms. Swan sinks it. She's now on top, straddling me and my fucking battleship, and the moment couldn't have come quick enough. She is so hot and inviting. With every upward thrust, I dread the decent, but the return rewards me again. Over and over—finally. We are finally connected in the manner that I had envisioned, repeatedly throughout the day and it is honestly even better than I imagined.

Every little sound she makes spurs me on, and I let her ride me, my hands firmly on her hips guiding. Her hands manipulate my shoulders and arms. I take all I can before I flip us over and show her I can truly sink my ship deep and precise, navigating her warm pussy. I tease and flick her nipples with my teeth and tongue and continue my assault as I feel her begin to clinch tighter around my cock. My thrusts quicken and I grasp her tighter. Our movements so frantic and crazed, I am distracted by all of the sounds in the room. Her…me…the bed squeaking and shaking, and before I know it, I hear her let out a sound that makes me have some fucked up sense of success. Moments later, I feel my balls constrict and I tense up shaking with my own release as the room begins to spin… I try to speak before my heavy lidded eyes close up shop for the night.

"Belll..ah… soeffingperfect."

~xoxoxoxox~

_Mum mum mum…_

_I wanna hold um like they do in Texas please…_

What the hell? Christ, my head is pounding out a beat to some obnoxious music. Fuck, make it stop! I am trying to open my eyes or speak. "Fuuuckkk…" What have I done? Shit. It slowly comes back in pieces, sort of. I know I drank entirely more than I should have. I am in an immense amount of pain, my head, my toe, my cheek, my balls, even my hair follicles hurt. What the fuck was I thinking? _Swan was naked. I think we sang._

I need water and a hot shower. I attempt to crawl out of bed and realize even more of my body aches. _Classic, Cullen. What the fuck are you eighteen?_ I stumble to the source of the god awful sound, _…p-p-p-poker face p-p-poker face,_ that woke me. I punch the screen several times before I can effectively communicate with my brain to select the right icon to make the fucking p's stop popping and the shit for music cease.

Silence.

Until the bathroom door flings open. Shit. She is here. _Where else would she be, dumbass?_

"Ms. Swan, good morning."

She glares at me momentarily and then her expression falls.

"Mornin' Mr. C," she is terse, "The shower is all yours," and wearing only a towel.

"Oh okay, thanks." I enter the bathroom and close the door. Cullen, remember. What did you do? I look down and notice I have on my boxer briefs so that's a good sign. This is no time for a blackout. Think. I turn on the sink and cup my hand to swallow several hand-cups of water. Thinking…franticly. Nothing. Shit. I turn on the shower as hot as it will go and continue to wrack my brain for any additional clues. Removing my boxers before I enter, I soak up the heat, willing it to heal all that ails me at this particular moment. Although it doesn't do much for my head where it seems, Neil Peart has apparently decided to drum out a few rounds of practice. _Skin. Lots of naked skin. Did my dick slap her? Christ?_ A few more things start to filter back into my brain, but I can't be sure. Now, I seriously am beginning to doubt my technical proficiency and stamina. I linger in the heat and moisture, my stomach feels like a cavernous pit of nastiness. I can actually still feel the booze sloshing around in there. I decide this is the best this shit shower is gonna provide for me this morning.

As I exit, I realize there is no towel. "Fuck!" I'm dripping on a bath mat and there is no fucking towel anywhere. Swan was wearing it. I wonder briefly what kind of trainwreck concoction she will produce today. Lord knows she has a whole lot of shit in that hobo bag of hers. Too bad she didn't carry an extra towel. I shake my head at my own idle thoughts. Then I get an idea that horrifies my neat freak, in control, professional, thirty-four year old self. Fuck it. I step off of the bath mat and pick it up to inspect its cleanliness.

Thankfully, I didn't eradicate all of my remaining brain cells last night. I toss the bath mat back to the floor in repulsion and wash my hands under the sink quickly. Then I shake them dry as I continue to stand and drip naked. That's when a second, much more reasonable idea occurs to me. I use my boxers to dry my hands and pat down some of the remaining water. That's when it occurs to me I still have to walk out of the bathroom to search for my clothes, and she is most likely out there. Fucking perfect. _Shit. What the hell is wrong with me?_ I turn to look in the mirror and stare at my dick briefly. _Was it good for you? Sure fucking hope so, because this is the worst, utter fucking mess, and I literally can remember virtually nothing. At least nothing that serves a redeeming stroke to my male pride or ego._ He stares back at me lifeless. Prick.

Now I am left with no other choice. I pull on the soaked boxers and open the door, wholly unprepared for what I see.

"Wow, Mr. C, do you always shower in your boxers?" Ms. Swan not only is wearing an appropriate skirt and shirt with the red Louboutins, but she looks refreshed and almost professional. _Is that one of the skirts I chose?_ Actually, she is stunning as she stands ironing my shirt. I am speechless. I stand with my jaw unhinged. "Here…" she steps away from the ironing board, and hands me my freshly pressed pants "...your shirt will be ready in a minute. There is a cup of coffee over there and some pain killers—legal ones. Looks like you could use a heluva a lot more than that, though."

I just nod and snap my jaw shut like the utter fucking moron I've become as I take the pills and my pants back into the bathroom. I swallow the pills and cup some more water from the tap. Then I remove the wet boxers and slide my pants on before I return to the room.

"Here you go, Mr. C, pressed to perfection for ya. Well, you know as good as one can do in a pinch at least." My shirt dangles between us from her delicate finger and I remain mute. What the fuck does one say in a situation like this? I am at an utter loss for words. "Thank you," seems severely insufficient.

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><p><strong>EN Well, well that was an eventful night for these two! Perhaps Bella can give us her take next, until then leave us yours.**


	18. Poker Face Problems

**A/N We're Baaaaaaaaack! Did you miss us? We missed you. True fact.**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. Although I am pretty sure this is beyond obvious by now. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Collide**

**Chapter 17**

**Poker Face Problems**

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><p><strong>BPOV<strong>

People don't change no matter how much I want to believe it. Miss Swan and Mr. Cullen...that's what we've resorted to. For a moment there, I thought things could work. The fucking battle ship pillow talk... How can someone that makes me laugh and feel so good at the same time be so wrong? Maybe Jackie is to blame. We did have a lot to drink.

I decide to iron his pants and dress shirt while he showers. It's the least I can do. It's probably killing him to put the same clothes on as yesterday. It just screams dirty. _No, dirty is what we did last night. It was just plain messy: missing holes, breaking furniture, stubbed toes._

_I have had my fair share of one-night stands but this seemed different. The cluster fuck of foreplay almost killed us both. The way our mouths fused together, like they belonged that way. His fingers had the perfect torque tweakage on my nipples. God, that hair! I loved pulling on it and grabbing at him mid thrust and boy could that man thrust._

I shake my head to rid myself of the nonsense. I'm sure it doesn't mean the same thing to him. I provide him with an escape, something different from his everyday routine. It doesn't matter. Whatever it is doesn't matter. I will be as professional as possible. It will make things easier. I did buy the pencil skirt and cream blouse he picked out. I slip into it and I have to admit I enjoy the way the silk feels on my skin. I smooth out the skirt that hugs me in all the right places. I put on the peep-toe pumps and smile. I still have to do this my way―black bra and electric blue toe nails.

I hear the bathroom door before I see him. This time he returns with his pants on and I hand him his shirt. I try not to stare but the reddish brown trail of hair that leads to his happy place catches my eye. I want to lick it from top to bottom and then some. I can feel my tongue dart out across my lips. It would be so easy to throw him down on that bed for another romp. I could finally break in those handcuffs. I think it would just about kill him to be tied up and not in control. I've come to think of him as a stallion. He needs to be broken before he can be ridden. I want to break him down so badly. That sorry excuse of a cookie cutter mold of a man is appalling. That's no way to live. I want him to see what else there could be for him. He's not meant for an office job. The way he speaks of Newton tells me enough. He's settling and that is the worst feeling in the world. I've been there.

I know he won't be willing for more sex. He's not nearly drunk enough. I can feel a small piece of my heart twinge with sadness, not for him but for me. I don't only want to be the type of girl that only gets her free love on. Sadly, that's all I can offer at the moment, and he's not the type to accept that. I gotta love em' and leave em'. Anymore than that and it complicates things. If I get stuck in a relationship, I will become too attached and when they're gone I'll be lost, just like my dad. How can you let yourself rely so much on just one person? You know, kind of like putting all your eggs in one basket. Maybe that's why I dabble in so many different things, never fully committing because you never know when it's gonna end.

He is acting really strange and I'm not sure how to proceed. I'm not really one for pretenses but I can just feel the tension radiating from him. This doesn't have to be awkward. We're both adults, but I'm thinking the best way to handle this is to pretend like nothing happened.

"So what time are we supposed to meet the client?"

"Uhh… McCarty, right. Umm…nine."

"McCarty! As in Emmett?" Hollyfuckingshitballs. I think I'm gonna be sick.

"Yes…Mr. McCarty's first name is Emmett. Christ! You know him too, don't you?"

_This is not happening. Am I having a bad trip? Did we fall during the crazy monkey sex and I somehow unknowingly broke my back and now my LSD laden spinal fluid is seeping into my blood stream and I am tripping sac? Emmett All-star McCarty is the client? Wait. What the fuck do we do again at Newtons? Does Emmett even know how to read blue prints?_

Going along with the tripping theme, I'm beginning to think I may have hallucinated the whole thing. It can't possibly be the same Emmett McCarty. The odds of that are the same as Newton's turning into a sporting goods store over night.

I am afraid to open my mouth. I have no idea what is about to fly out of it. I feel like running out of this shitty room, hopping in Rosie and getting the fuck out of dodge—or Forks. I want to leave Edward to pick up the pieces. If I don't see Em, it's like I was never here. No harm, no foul. It would be so easy. I'd be doing what I do best...leaving. I see the look of concern on his face and I abandon that train of thought. He looks worried, almost like he cares about me or maybe just my reaction.

Whatever is going through Cullen's head couldn't possibly be what I think it is. He's probably all weirded out by getting it on in a strange place with a strange girl and then having to sort out the aftermath. He communicates with people just about as well Garrett or Rosie—inanimate objects with a name. Because that is all Edward Cullen will ever be if he doesn't snap out of his self imposed prison. I bet his skin is just crawling thinking about the germs from that shower alone. Poor guy.

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><p><strong>EN We love to hearing from ya, as always, so leave a review and talk to us.**


	19. Mystic Rhythms Fuzzy Mind

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. Blah blah blah...here is a bunch of other stuff you won't recognize and nobody but us would claim it anyhow. So enjoy!**

**Collide**

**Chapter 18**

**Mystic Rhythms Fuzzy Mind**

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><p><em>"Yes…Mr. McCarty's first name is Emmett. Christ! You know him too, don't you?"<em>

**EPOV**

Now I don't know what the fuck to think or do. I take my shirt and mumble my thank yous. Seriously, she didn't need to iron my friggin clothes. I mean it was thoughtful and all but honestly, seeing her like a fifties house wife all professional,_ well almost the black bra is well…fuck!_ I can't even go there right now, Swan ironing my clothes is plain strange. You would think her ability to have any remaining shock factor over me would have waned in the last twenty four hour period but this one really has been the most shocking of all. How does a complete and utter trainwreck go from flighty and carefree to… _Her body was putty in my capable hands I was playing her like a guitar, her soft moans and then the knock._

I wish it would all just come back at once. That was good, though, that part I remember._ Is that why she is distant and acting like a sitcom wife? Is she trying to show me another side of her, a side she thinks I want? Fuck, did we actually have sex? Now what does she want...expect?_ The only reason I wanted her so much and lost all control in the first place was because she was everything but ordinary. Her crazy all over the place optimism and tender vulnerability finally chipped away at my resolve and I caved. _I wanted her, that much I remember._ She is exactly like nothing I have ever dated and she is… she is a complete and utter mess…. She is…. Perfect.

Only now, she is quiet and weird, and I'm not a hundred percent sure of what all we did. And I am a fucking ass. Damn, I think I asked her a question and she hasn't responded. _How much time has passed?_ We have to get out of here and meet with McCarty. This day is looking up to be another complete and utter disaster. _I asked her about McCarty, that's right, and she hasn't answered._ Fuck, this is gonna be bad. I hope she isn't related to him somehow.

"Ms. Swan, we really need to be going so we aren't late. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, we wouldn't wanna be late or anything. Let's roll." Her words are typical but her body language and clothing are anything but. She seems almost—nervous.

I grab the coffee cup, take a swig and gather my remaining items as I head for the door and hold it open for her. She hesitantly walks out in front of me, and I glance back at my unkempt hair in the mirror before I let the door click behind us. _Did we break the nightstand? Who the fuck am I?_

We head out to her Mustang, and I can't help but feel something else is going on, besides the obvious tension from what I assume was inappropriate, clusterfuck sex, mounting between us, so I offer to drive.

"Ms. Swan, would you feel more comfortable if I drove to Mr. McCarty's office?"

"Ugh…sure whatever." She tosses me the keys, slinks down into the passenger seat and I close the door for her. That's strange.

I ease into the driver side, buckle my seat-belt, check the mirrors, start the ignition and inspect the gauges, closely. _Christ I think I tweaked her nipples really hard last night. She has really pink nipples._

Her clipped answer sends the red flag clear to the top of the pole. I may be an ass, and I may not exactly be the best at the relationship thing, but I am a guy and even I know when something is up. Christ. I don't know what to do. I have never been in a situation like this. I feel so damn confused right now. I know we are both adults...legally, although, Swan's mental stability is at times questionable. My fucking head won't let up it seems intent on pounding out some god awful progressive rock beat, and I am in no mood for any Rush this morning. Peart needs to pack his shit up and get the fuck out of my head so I can try to think clearly—focus. _Pounding...reminds me of thrusting...shit! I'm not sure I could get it in. Who can't get it in? Fuck, did I just dry hump her while petting her pink nipples?_

I miss my Volvo and Debussy. Running my fingers through my hair, I remember why I always use pomade to slick it back. My hair can only be controlled with this particular product and I like to be in control. Control is predictable and produces results. I miss my shower and my clean clothes, I need my routine. My routine works. This whole twenty-four hour fiasco is so out of control, and I am a complete and utter disaster. _Shit...I'm like Swan._

We drive in uncomfortable silence to McCarty's office. I pull into the lot and notice his Porsche out front. I know it's his because he talks about it all the time and the personalized tag sort of seals the deal—hugabear. Emmett McCarty is one huge dude. I smile as I imagine him squeezing into the tiny sports car, all six foot five inches of his huge frame.

"So...looks like we're here." I am stepping out of the car, but Ms. Swan remains glued to the seat. I walk around to the passenger door and take a deep measured breath before I open it.

"Look, obviously I suck at this, and we should probably clear the air before we go inside. Ms. Swan I apologize for my behavior last night that was completely unprofessional and out of line." I let my breath out in a large gasp as my hand finds my hair again for comfort. _Note to self: carry some pomade in my brief case from now on along with dental floss._

"Obviously you aren't a quick study. Breathe with me." She begins to inhale air through her nose. "In one, two, three. Out. One…four, five, six. Double the exhale. If you want proper oxygen absorption you need to regulate your breathing." She places her delicate hand on my chest and it makes my dick stir, again. Traitorous cock. "Mr. C, looks like you seem to be at odds with your body on this one. It was just sex. It happens. It's natural and necessary and from the looks of it, you could use another go. But we have an important meeting to attend. Shall we?" _So we really had sex, and from what I can piece together, I'm a fucking inept disaster. Pure win! Way to start the day. Why would she want another go?_

Who the hell is this woman and what has she done with Hooter-trainwreck girl? She goes from virtual tears to Ms. Professional; zero to sixty in three point two seconds. She's faster than Rosie. Well the mood swings aren't all that unusual; most women can stop on a dime and change flight patterns and the men are left with the stressful job of air traffic controllers of said woman's emotions. But this is unusual, even for Ms. Swan. I feel like I really connect with her though—it's strange yes, but I do care.

"Alrighty then." With my brain cells being down in numbers this morning, I settle for idiot control freak.

We enter the building and an eye popping, stacked set, er...I mean woman, sits at the reception area; must be Jessica. I've never met her personally but Angela is always complaining about Mr. McCarty's ditzy secretary, and Fake-Tits here definitely seems to fill the bill. She looks ridiculous, as if she might topple over her desk, unexpectedly, any moment, face first. At least I am able to make basic electrical connections in my brain, still.

"Mr. Cullen and Ms. Swan to see Mr. McCarty." Swan is fidgeting by my side and I try to dismiss it, but I notice.

"Ya sure." Smack. Smack. Smack. She is chewing gum rather loudly, and I wonder briefly if Peart and Jessica discussed this as the sound reverberates in time to my pounding head. "Have a seat. He'll be right out." She continues to smack her gum; it is annoying and causes me to think of failed thrusting once more.

"Edward, looking good. Did you change your hair? Are you trying to tease me?" Emmett speaks as he rounds the corner and spots me. I stand immediately and shake his hand.

"Umm, no I…"

"Well holy shit…look at you Bells?" Emmett releases my grasp instantly as his mouth gapes open. I look from Ms. Swan to Emmett and back. Yep she knows him. No one is speaking now and I am confused.

"Hey, Em," she whispers.

"So she lives. You look good kid. So you know my Bells?" Emmet begins speaking to her but addresses the last question to me. He gestures for us to follow him into his office as I stutter like a moron.

"Uh…well….uh…" Shit could I fuck this up any worse. I'm not sure how to answer that question. His Bells? Has she screwed the whole town? No, that's not possible Emmet's gay. I'm sure of it. He is always hitting on me casually. The few times we've met in Seattle we would grab a drink and I always politely declined his advances. I guess he's hoping to get me to switch sides; clearly I needed last night more than I ever realized. _Not the dry humping and dick slap part, if that really happened as my fuzzy brain recalls._ But how does this fit in with Bella…er Ms. Swan.

"Em, leave him alone. We got a flat and had to stay at James's place last night." She saves me again. I think that is twice today. Bella steps tentatively towards a small settee with a coffee table in front of her.

With that, a roar of laughter erupts from the man bear. "Dude, I'm sorry for you already. That guy is a total douche-bag. Can I get you anything, man? Have a seat. Bells? Hot towel, shave, painkillers, stiff drink?" He winks at me. _Definitely gay._

"Coffee, Em." Bella's voice is steady but off as she sits.

"No, I'm good, Mr. McCarty, thank you. I just need you to look over these final plans and we can make any additional markups at this time, so we can get the permits ordered to officially break ground." I pull out the blueprints spreading them across the table.

McCarty presses a button, and moments later Ms. Silicone walks in with a tray of coffee. She sets it down on the blueprints. I stiffen in my seat.

More laughter. "Cullen, you show up here looking like shit, trying to maintain a ruse of professionalism and with Bells in tow, no less. Dude, breathe."

"See." Bella's eyes flicker then she pours two cups of coffee handing me one; I notice her hand is trembling.

"Look, Cullen, I'm not going to attack you, here."

Eyes dart back and forth across the room, and I take a sip of the hot liquid. I'm not sure how he means that exactly. The guy is huge, and he could clearly take me, but there is that playful lilt to his tone again.

"Some things never change. Em, leave him alone. I thought you'd grow out of intimidating people."

"Bells, a lot of things have changed around here, but you wouldn't know about that now would you?"

"Ughm," I clear my throat before continuing, "Clearly this is awkward. So perhaps if we just focus on the plans we could all get on with our day." _Or lives, without injury or further humiliation._

"Holy hell, you two slept together. Is that why you look like a Stepford assistant? I expected more from you, Bells. I thought you didn't want the cookie cutter bullshit. And as for you, my man, I have to admit I really thought you were batting for the other team, but kudos if you can wrangle this one. She's wild you know." Swan spews coffee out and begins to choke.

_What the fuck just happened?_ I need a rewind or pause button. My brain is no longer capable of making the connections necessary to keep up with this debacle. I simply watch as if everything appears to play out in slow motion now, before my eyes.

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><p><strong>EN So he remembers...sorta. Crap even Emmett knows. Bella's doing pretty good all considering. Let us know what you think. We love all of your crazy theories and ranting so give it to us!**


	20. Dashboard Denial

**A/N Okay there seems to be a little confusion over the last chapter so let's try to clear it up a bit. Emmett is gay. Emmett is also Bella's ex. Bella does not know he is gay...yet. Edward does.**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. (Insert your own witty sarcasm here)**

**Collide**

**Chapter 19**

**Dashboard Denial**

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><p><strong>BPOV<strong>

The last person on earth I need to take crap from is Emmett "I'm a Big Deal" McCarty. Obviously his football career didn't go quite as planned. Not my problem. He doesn't need to be passing judgment on anyone, especially Edward. I'm not exactly sure what he means by him batting for the other team but clearly he hasn't lost his dumb jock, bully persona. Just because Edward is anal retentive does not mean he is gay. Even though things are extremely awkward between us at the moment, I feel oddly protective over him and I'm not just going to sit back and let this shit slide. Besides, I know Edward would never speak out of turn, to a client nonetheless.

I spit the coffee out of my mouth before I have a chance to aim for my target. Luckily, I haven't lost my touch and I get Emmett square on the chest, staining his white Ralph Lauren dress shirt._ Ralph Lauren? WTF? Since when do designers make clothes in size gorilla?_

"Busy!" Emmett shouts in frustration, assessing the damage of his precious shirt.

"Emmett Dale McCarty! You know nothing about Edward or even me for that matter. Everybody keeps feeding me this bullshit of things changing but I still see the same bully with no manners that thinks he knows what's best for everyone. Why the hell would you even care if I slept with Edward? You didn't care when I slept with Sam so why give a shit now? That's right. I fucked Cullen and it was amazing!"

Emmett actually has the nerve to start chuckling. Who laughs when their ex-girlfriend talks about her sexual conquests, including the ex's best friend...while they were still together? I glare at him, shooting my death daggers that always make him cower.

He slowly approaches me and places his monster hands on either side of my face. He stares and me and I dart my eyes back and forth, searching for answers in his eyes. _Please, don't kiss me. Please, don't try and win me back. I don't want to be here._ A huge Cheshire cat grin breaks out across his face.

"Well, I'm glad some things don't change. You're still the same Bells I loved back then."

I break free of his death grip and scowl.

"Don't."

"I didn't mean..."

I turn around to see Edward slouching in the corner of the room. I feel horrible for subjecting him to the shit show about to go down. God, he just wants to get his papers signed and move on. Not only am I holding him back, I'm also allowing him to bear complete witness to the trainwreck that is Isabella Marie Sawn. Edward looks up from the floor and for a brief second he catches my eyes. I try to apologize profusely without words but it doesn't seem to be working.

"I'm just gonna go. You two obviously need to work some stuff out. If you could sign those papers and overnight them that would be great. Do you think Miss Stanley could arrange for a rental car?" Edward sounds freaked the fuck out in his anal retentive, _I've gotta control everything_, manner.

"Ed, my man, you don't have to leave." Emmett makes his way over to Edward who has his hand on the door handle and whispers something into his ear. I watch as Edward's hand falls from the handle and a smirk plays across his lips. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. I raise my eye brows at him and try to return his sentiment but it just comes across as a botched botox smile.

Emmett walks back to me and places his hands on my shoulders. His body is intimidating and I can't let him get to me. I steel myself in my spot and wait for whatever idiocy will flow from his mouth. How he managed to create his own construction company baffles me. I always thought he was all brawn no brains.

"I've got a clean shirt in my car. Why don't we all go to lunch so we can have a chance to play catch up? My friend does this great spread for lunch on Saturday afternoons."

I start to shake my head profusely. The gang always has lunch on Saturdays. Emily is an amazing cook. We have everything from homemade lasagna...I'm talking like she makes the pasta from scratch...to red velvet cake for dessert. It usually ends with some drunken smack talk and a poker game. I'm not ready for this.

"Em, just sign the papers and we'll go. We can act like I was never here." I beg him with my eyes but when Emmett is determined, he never relents.

"How about this, you both come to Sam's and I'll sign the papers." I look to Edward but he remains silent. _Why won't he back me up on this?_

"Fine. But if Charlie gets wind of me being back I will climb through your window while you sleep and knife you to death!"

We all walk out to the parking lot and Emmett opens the driver's side door of a tiny, two-seater sports car. I try to hide my smile but envisioning him in this car is insane. He pushes the seat forward and reaches for a tee shirt from the back. He starts to unbutton his shirt. I turn around because that is just creepy. I don't need to be reminded of his humongoid chest. The guy had some insane muscles, and I'm sure he will make some big boobed Barbie type very happy. Maybe he's doing his _sexetary_. She seems like his type.

As I'm waiting for Emmett to finish his childish display of self-centered body worship, I notice his license plate. _Hugabear?_ Is that some sort of joke? I am finally convinced he will never grow up and it proves my point. People don't change. It's a really nice car but it seems more like something some trendy, fabulous drag queen would drive: loud and showy. The only thing missing is a disco ball hanging from the rear-view mirror. Just as I'm about to turn around and get this show on the road, a glittery, rainbow bumper sticker catches my eye. You've got to be kidding me. I start to laugh. Someone got him good!

"Hey, Em, I think someone put a gay pride sticker on your car." I turn around and am smacked in the face with a vision I never expected to see. Em is in a black, shimmery tee-shirt that is so tight he looks like he painted it on. For the first time I notice that his jeans are so tight they are basically nut-huggers. No straight man in their right mind would ever dress like this.

"What the fuck is going on?" I demand.

"You still remember how to get to Sam's?" he asks with a smirk. My mouth is hanging open and I have no words. Edward walks me towards the passenger seat, opens the door and helps me in. I see him talking to Emmett. Both are laughing and Emmett pats Edward on the back. I don't even bother trying to figure out what they are saying. All of that is behind me in the rear-view mirror as I stare out over the dashboard. The loud swooshing noise in my ears and the heavy beating of my heart is all I can concentrate on.

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><p><strong>EN Poor Bella... What the hell were Emmett and Edward up too? Hope you all have a fantastic day while we leave Bella to put the pieces into place. Talk to us. We love to know what you're crazy minds are up to, too!**


	21. WTF? Need I Say More?

**A/N So Bella knows about Emmett now what?**

**branchirps: **I was sick yesterday, and hubs gave me some weird pills last night. aka NyQuil and the freaky color green only made me think of... that's right Edward who else. So I had lovely dreams and woke up refreshed and ready to face my week! Funny how everything can lead back to thoughts of The Pretty or Twi...

**maxipoo1024: **Don't let him fool you. They're called roofies. I took them once because I wanted to get laid, but I fell asleep.

**b: **lol umm...I'm a sure thing, for hubs. He wouldn't need to slip me anything. Mainly he wanted me to STFU because I couldn't shut my brain down.

**m: **I think that's how we come up with this shit. Our brains run wild and NyQuil adds that little extra oomph...how else would we come up with "Hugabear?"

**b:** hahah some of my favorite lines are coming soon...

**m:** In the words of a snazzy, blue eyed crooner that my 2 year old daughter absolutely adores, "The best is yet to come..." oh and we are so doing this my way!

**b:** You make us feel all warm and fuzzy like freaky green NiQuil! Okay enough of our rambling...go read Eddie's.

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. But we do own all the mistakes, we are human, and not being paid for this. So go drink some artificial colored NyQuil and forget about the errors.**

**Collide**

**Chapter 20**

**WTF? Need I Say More?**

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><p><strong>EPOV<strong>

I'm amazing—in bed apparently—according to Swan! I can live with that. I wish I could remember more of it. _Pizza, there was pizza? Bar condiments possibly?_

Clearly, she has no clue that Emmett is gay and when he lets me in on his plan for a little practical joke, I cant resist. Emmett seems to be more than a shrewd business man and very perceptive about people. I think it will be funny to see her expression, plus it is something I typically wouldn't do, so it seems fitting. As he strips off his white shirt in the parking lot and proceeds to strut like a drag-queen peacock, even I'm a bit uncomfortable. _Swan seemed truly shocked as she began to process the information, and I wonder briefly about their past together. I find myself wondering about much of Miss Swan's past now._

She always seems to knock me off my intended path with one shocking thing after another, so I agree to the completely unprofessional display. She's speechless now, and I am feeling a twinge of guilt. Somehow this utterly chaotic, graceful bird has gotten under my skin, and now I have more fucked up thoughts floating in my head than I can even make sense of.

_She has a tattoo of a bird…that I licked? Christ. And I'd really like to do it again._ I need to open a new document and start filling in the boxes of a massive spreadsheet to make sense of the last twenty-six hours.

I help Swan in the car feeling slightly ashamed for blindsiding her back there in the office.

I slide in behind the wheel and give a small apologetic smile before I start the ignition. My hands on ten and two, I check all the gauges and mirrors then pull out slowly, carefully following Emmett. His gay pride sticker catches a few of the rare rays of sunlight Washington has to offer, causing it to sparkle. I stifle a laugh still feeling a tad remorseful for the childish antics back there.

"So you think something is fucking funny?" She tries giving me the scare-the-shit-out-of-you look she gave to Emmett in the office. _Yeah, I noticed that!_ But it's softer and I can't help replaying her words in my head again. _"That's right. I fucked Cullen and it was amazing!"_ So I just give her a smirk.

"Well you have to admit that Emmett pretty much is a walking cliché. I mean all he needs is a disco ball for his rear-view mirror."

With that, her tough act seems to crack and she begins to laugh with me.

"I know right! We should totally get him one of those bumper stickers that says 'I love men that sparkle!'" She even makes tiny air quotes with her hands._ Her hands felt good, really good on my body._ I remember that.

"Watch it. He was hitting on me, you know? And I definitely do not sparkle," I deadpan.

"No, Mr. C, you do not. But you do like your board games that light up don't cha? Or maybe they only had the non-electronic version in your youth."

I narrow my eyes, glancing her direction, then I'm silent for a moment not sure what she is hinting at. God, I am sure there is some kind of meaning I should be attaching to this, but I'm only drawing a blank. _Time for a subject change._

"Seems this was an interesting place to grow up?" I hedge.

"I'd really rather not discuss it," she mumbles switching on the music.

We are silent the rest of the short drive, and she has her hand on the door handle as if she is ready to escape, as soon as I pull in behind Emmett. Her knuckles are white, but she turns to face me before she opens the door.

"Look, Mr. C, um...I'm sorry for what I said. I guess I let Em get under my skin, and I just wanted to prove a point back there, but I guess it sorta back fired on me. So don't feel like…" she gestures between us "...this is something and you have to protect me or some weird shit. I'm not one of those girls. It was just sex. Really, I want to apologize for all this. I know you only wanted to get the papers signed." She is out of the car before I can respond.

_So maybe I'm not amazing in bed? Was she just trying to make Emmett jealous? Shit...fuck…Why the hell did I drink so much last night? WHY DO I FUCKING CARE? Seriously, who the hell am I? Maybe it has something to do with this damn town. Forks: a detour off the path of sanity!_

Emmett is standing by my door as I open it to step out. "Hey, Ed, we haven't scared you off yet, have we? Bells will chill out. She just needs to realize things aren't like when she left and everyone around here loves and misses her. Come on, looks like you need a drink."

"Uh, no, I think that's the last thing I need right now. Food couldn't hurt, though." I try to avoid the direct references of Swan, although I take in every word he says. Somehow, it is another piece to the elusive Isabella Marie Swan. _What a lovely name._

She has just made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that there is nothing between us. Why I'm still lamenting over her, blows my mind. _Maybe I am a pussy? Bella's hot pussy…my fingers inside her, playing her, stroking and taking her higher. Okay, focus no more thoughts of pussy._ Clearly my dick didn't get enough either. _This is not professional. This is not professional…_ I repeat the mantra in my head as we walk towards the front porch.

"Whatever, Ed, having a drink always helps the hangover but to each their own. Let's do this."

"Puuuusssss…puss, puss, puss…where are you?" A sienna skinned, long haired woman with a kind smile is calling out over the front porch as we approach.

Christ, this seriously can't be happening. My head goes straight to thoughts of Swan's pussy and my dick stirs again with the mere mention of a fucking cat. _Am I twelve?_

"Did you boy's scare her away like a pack of wolves again? Where is Puss?" her voice is serious, but sweet and soft spoken.

Oh this should be interesting.

* * *

><p><strong>EN So now where do they stand? Seems Edward's memory is returning bit by bit, but he is still missing some important ughm...maneuvers. What will happen at lunch? Music for the chapters can still be found on the profile if you are interested.**

**Leave us your thoughts (are they as colorful as Eddies?) until next time!**


	22. Any Other World, I'd be Sane

**A/N What will we reveal next?**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. Of course, as has been stated before these characters bear little resemblance to any SM originally created, but there is point to our hair-brained Trainwreck. So hang on!**

**Collide**

**Chapter 21**

**Any Other World, I'd be Sane**

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><p><strong>BPOV<strong>

I try not to laugh but I can't help it. This is just too easy. I figure if I am going to have to take a walk down memory lane, I'm going to have a little fun at Edward's expense. He's obviously missing some pieces of our night. What a shame! The good was really good and the bad, well, it was entertaining to say the least. Maybe it won't be so bad. The hole in my heart starts to twitch and ache. I really have missed everyone so much, even Emmett in his new found gay glory. _When the fuck did that happen?_

I smile shyly at Emily as she passes me. Apparently, she is looking for her cat which is aptly named Puss. It has Sam written all over it. I shake my head, hiding my smirk, and Emily smiles back at me with her forgiving eyes. I know she forgave Sam for tormenting the cat with a ridiculous name just like she forgave me all those years ago. Things tend to get awkward when you've fucked your best friend, and he gets a new girl and she knows you've taken a ride on his disco stick. It ends up being pretty weird, so I just decided to fade into the distance and out of their lives. It's better this way.

I follow her out to the back porch and I am a bit floored by the sight in front of me. Uptight and anal, Edward Cullen, is sitting on a porch swing, the meat in a man sandwich of Emmett and Sam. Oh my God! It dawns on me that I have fucked all three... just not at the same time! Emily is chasing after Puss, and I reach into the cooler and crack open a forty of Vitamin R. I could use something a bit stronger but R feels right.

I sit across from them on an Adirondack chair and take in the scenery. Even though I haven't had the opportunity to have them all at the same time, that is one train I would like to ride.

"What's so funny, pretty girl?" Sam asks.

"Life," I reply as a matter of fact. My life was always a trainwreck but now it's like a badly scripted reality show. I'm waiting for the three boys to start the most epic bromance known to man.

"We're glad to have you back, Busy," Emmett pipes in. I offer him a smile. I can't stay angry at a man in a sparkly shirt.

Emily walks up the porch steps with the largest, hairiest cat I have ever seen. This thing was just a thirty pound ball of fur. I know what's going through my head and I can't keep it to myself. Maybe it will get us back on track, back to the old days.

"Hey, Emily, it looks like your pussy is in a dire need of a shave."

We all bust out laughing and Edward guzzles down his beer without even attempting to breathe. I bet that guy could do a gnarly keg stand!

xoxoxox

Lunch is delicious as usual. Even though Emmett is gay, he still eats like a caveman. He bites into a turkey drumstick. I watch as the juices dribble down his chin and settle in his dimples. He grabs some corn with his greasy turkey mitts and starts to eat it like he's a typewriter. With each pass of the ear of corn, a I hear a mental caching. I look at Edward and I smile at his meticulous, bite-sized pieces. Every food group separated perfectly, nothing touching each other. I notice he only eats one type of food at a time. He finishes all his vegetables first. Then he moves onto the meat. It's kind of cute in a stick up your ass kind of way.

"So, everyone up for a game of poker? Jazzy should just about be done with his shift," Emmett asks as he wipes his mouth with the edge of the table cloth. I am baffled at this contradiction of a man in front of me. Still the uncouth goliath, now he just listens to Lady Gaga while he works out.

"I know I haven't been around lately, but if my memory serves me right...Whitlock can't play poker to save his life. Rosie can attest to that." I scan over the wall of board games and smile evilly.

"Then what do you suggest, Busy?" Sam smiles at me, reading my mind yet again.

"Got any good board games?" I look over to Emily and she also plays along. This group, my family... we're as thick as thieves. No matter how much time passes, we are still on the same wavelength. I know it sounds strange, but it's like we hear each other's thoughts.

"We have Battleship. That's always good for some fun," she answers sweetly.

"Oooh! We all know how much I love to sink things! Hey, Ed, have you sunk any ships lately?" Emmett asks with a wide grin.

"Excuse me." Edward abruptly pushes his chair away from the table and heads out the back door.

I get up and chase after him. I follow him down the dirt path which leads to a meadow we all used to smoke up in.

"Hey! Edward!" I call after him. He keeps walking faster, and I try not to trip on the exposed roots or slip on the soggy leaves.

We reach the meadow and instead of admiring the beauty of the lush green grass and thick comforting trees, he spins around and digs into me.

"How could you?" His eyes are full of hurt. I shake my head, confused.

"I didn't..."

"Stop lying. How else would they know about my battleship basterdization of sex? Look, I know it didn't mean anything to you. You probably thought it would be a good segue into joining the gang again. You know, have a laugh at my expense. But it meant something to me, Bella. " His voice trails off to a whisper.

"Now you're the one lying. Cut the crap, Edward. The sex meant just as much to you as your job at Newtons—absolutely nothing! If you cared about your job, you'd have passion. You wouldn't treat it like a chore. If the sex meant anything to you, you wouldn't have come out of the bathroom pretending nothing had happened. So you want to make me feel bad for having fun and joking with my friends? Tough shit. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've seen these people? How long I've spent remembering their smiles? To finally actually see them in person..."

Before I have time to realize what is happening, he stalks towards me and grabs me by the shoulders. He pulls me into him with such force, my chest crashes against his. His eyes are peering down, imploring me to answer some unspoken question. I watch as his pink tongue darts out along his plump bottom lip. I take a long exhale in; it's the woods and the rain and everything I remembered from last night, smoke and whiskey...cherries and desire.

He kisses me and I float away. His tongue enters my mouth and I savor the taste. I let a little mew out, something pathetic that Puss would make. I can't help it. This man does things to my girly bits. His mouth becomes more urgent, and I start to explore his with my own tongue. We pull away and we are both dazed over with lust. I try to catch my breath and he says something that makes me lose it all over again.

"That most certainly was not nothing!" I nod my head, agreeing with him. "Damnit, Bella! You are the craziest, most infuriating, ridiculous person I have ever met. Nothing ever seems to go smoothly when you're involved. No matter how hard I try, I can't get you out of my mind. You make me feel things I haven't felt for years. You make me want to live again."

"I don't..." Wonderful verbal skills, Bella. He places his index finger over my mouth and fuck me if I don't want suck on it.

"I acted like nothing happened because I couldn't remember exactly what happened. But when all the battleship references were being made at the table more of the missing pieces began to fall into place. That kiss kind of sealed it like an acid flash back—go figure. Somehow, I remember it clearly now."

"Why, Mr. Cullen! I had no idea you dropped acid before!"

"Why, Ms. Swan, there is a lot you don't know about me. I've done many things, some I'm not proud of. True, I haven't dropped acid before...but if it's anything like the way you move and feel, I'm willing to expand my mind..with you, legally of course. And for the record, being with you last night, the debauchery that it was, made me smile and most certainly isn't on my list of regrets." He gives me a lopsided grin and quirks an eyebrow. For the first time in days, things don't seem so bad. Still very, very strange, but I think I can deal.

We walk back towards Emily and Sam's house. Our hands are linked together and I have a genuine smile on my face. I'm not sure what will happen when we get back to the office. I push it out of my mind for the time being. I just want to enjoy the time with my family.

I notice Whitlock's cruiser before I actually see him. Emmett is walking down the front steps to greet Jasper. Edward and I are still making our way to the house so we are undetected. I feel him squeeze my hand tightly and glance down at our connection with a smile before looking up. The smile falls from my face immediately.

Jasper, or should I say, Jazzy, is wearing a pair of faded blue hip-hugger jeans, complete with rips and frays. He's got a cut-off belly shirt that says, "I Love Bears." Emmett races to him, picks him up in his arms and spins him around. He places a sweet kiss on his lips before setting him down on his feet. Everything clicks into place. The song, the nickname, it all fits together like a glitery jigsaw puzzle. I look to Edward for some explanation and he nervously smiles.

"I won't be mad. Just tell me..." I beg.

"Remember when _Jazzy_ pulled us over and he knew me? Well, I've met Emmett for drinks a few times in Seattle, since working on his project. _Jazzy_ tagged along once...as his boyfriend."

I smile widely and nod, like a crazy person. "I can do this!"

* * *

><p><strong>EN So Lunch was productive, no? *nodding like crazy people***

**Sometimes we get too caught up in the day to day, we forget to open our eyes...**

**Let us have it.**


	23. I'll Do Anything

**A/N Okay peps the crazy train is coming to an end so check out our end note even if you normally don't, please.**

**m:** So this is really it huh? Almost over... I think I need a Xanax or maybe a life-time supply of Zoloft to get over the loss of these two in my life.

**b**: They'll always be in our heads bb! That's where it all began so many months ago.

**m:** Well, if they stay in there, I may be committed if I don't let Bella get out every once in a while. Hmm, I wonder what that would mean...

**b:** Maybe they will have to make a reappearance?

**m:** I guess it depends on how much love they get and how pushy Bella can be. That bitch is crazy! She may tie me up and take over completely. My husband would probably be happy about that.

**b:** Okay let's get on with it for today...

**m:** I know we said last time it was a big reveal...but this one is definitely eye-opening. For shizzle! Ack! Bella, not yet. Get out of my head. Okay just go read!

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. The crazy still belongs to us.**

**Collide**

**Chapter 22**

**I'll Do Anything...**

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><p><strong>EPOV<strong>

"We should get on the road. And with the luck that seemingly surrounds us, it may take another day before we make it back." I smile and try to make sense of all this but no spreadsheet could truly begin to organize our chaos. This would take a very complicated algorithm to explain all the wrong that feels so right here.

"Yeah, just let me say goodbye to everyone first."

"Sure, I still need to get some documents signed."

Swan er...Bella is saying her goodbyes and I don't intrude._ Christ, the shit sloshing around in my head is crazy but it makes me smile all the same and somehow it feels really right._

Emmett and I look over the plans in the privacy of the kitchen. He signs off on the documents and presents me with a business proposition I never expected. The other propositions that I expected, even in jest, didn't happen and I suspect it is twofold. I think he is really happy with _Jazzy_. I never knew they were serious. I only met Jazzy casually once and was slowly trying to put the pieces together over the last twenty-four hours since he pulled us over.

Also and quite a bit more pertinent, I feel Emmett really cares about Bella and her happiness. If I happen to be the key, I think he wants to make sure I stick around and become a permanent part of her life. Honestly, I think all of these people truly love her and really they were very welcoming to me. _Battleship discussion aside... Shit! Who the hell makes references to a geeky game that has overt sexual innuendos anyway, besides a twelve year old boy? Oh, that's right! Me during drunken sex, apparently. I'm still slightly mortified over that one._

I finish up and let Emmett know I'll think it over as I shake his massive hand. We walk out to meet Bella by the car and she is standing by the passenger side. I'm not sure if she wants me to drive, but it does make me hesitate.

"Let's roll, Mr. C." The spark in her eye is what I fixate on and it elicits a half-grin from me.

I open the door for her as she hugs Emmett one last time and slides in. We wave and promise to visit as I carefully back out of the graveled drive. Once on the main road, I settle in to the comfortable hum Rosie provides. She named her car and gave it a personality? _And I'm now acknowledging this._ The thoughts of the last two days fill my head and I smile to myself.

"Deep in thought…or are you remembering some of your smooth moves, Mr. C?"

I take a breath and release it as a smile forms on my face. "I could show you some smooth moves, Swan."

"I've seen your moves remember? Oh, wait, maybe you don't."

"Like I told you, it's coming back..." _'How does she know... you love her…'_ The ringing of my cell interrupts us and the ridiculous calypso sound with Amy Adams voice spilling out tells me exactly who is calling. This is the last person I want to talk to at this very moment. I cautiously take one hand off the wheel and attempt to send the call to voice mail.

"Hello….Hello? Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, I know you can hear me!" Apparently, I've inadvertently placed the call on speakerphone as the high-pitched, mile-a-minute voice echoes in the car.

"A…"

"Don't you 'Ah' me! Where the hell have you been? Why has your phone been shut off? Is this what you do now? Ignore your sister, mister?"

"Al…"

"I had to call your office...and why did you not tell me, your flesh and blood sister, Angela is on maternity leave already?"

"Ali…"

"So, naturally, I had to talk to her myself and she told me all about the psycho, Daisy Duke with the bad hair and knee socks…"

"Alic…"

A large snort echoes through the car, and it seems it has come simultaneously from my passenger as well as the speaker on my phone.

"Angela is actually hilarious. Ya know, I have always liked her. Too bad she got married and preggers cuz I totally thought you two would make a cute couple. Anyhow,when she described the look on your face as the creature defiled your desk, I began laughing so hard that…"

"Alice! Jesus, take a breath! You're on speaker phone and I am not alone."

"Ah…Oohhh, well call me later then, asshat, because I have to discuss some things with you. Hi, Daisy, sorry about the comment concerning your hair. Good news is you can pay people to fix that. By the way, Angela also mentioned you have a nice ass and perky tits so better your hair be bad than your assets. If you know what I mean."

"Yeah...okay...thanks," Bella answers my crazy ass sister and snorts again, chuckling to herself. I notice from my periphery.

"Goodbye, Alice!" I disconnect the call quickly.

"Have fu…"

Silence spreads across the car and between us. I can't find it in myself to take my eyes off the road.

Then Bella begins laughing uncontrollably.

"You have four names?" She snorts again.

"After that entire phone call, that's what you chose to pick up on?"

"Yeah, it's hilarious. Who has four names? Are you like British royalty or some shit? Your sister is a hoot." She is laughing so hard she cant breathe and as I turn to look at her, all I can do is smile.

We drive comfortably in silence, for a few minutes. "I think you look beautiful today, by the way. I especially like the black bra and blue toes."

"Why, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, I thought you would find those the least appealing parts of me. So I seem to meet your approval for the office now? "

I smirk. "I didn't say that."

"Here we go. So what the hell is wrong with this for the office?"

"Nothing if… Fuck!" I hear the noise and see the lights flashing in my rear view. Christ can we just get the fuck out of this town without involving the authorities.

"What the…" She twists her head around as the sound of the sirens creep closer. "Oh, fuck!"

"Shit, I haven't even done anything wrong. Aren't you the one who is supposed to tell me, Mr. Anal, to keep calm? Why are you freaking out?" I pull off to the side of the road as I glance in my mirror at a tall dark haired man in uniform approaching. I roll down my window and ready my identification. The intimidating figure peers in and is slow to speak.

"Isabella Marie Swan…"

I watch as her eyes tighten and her jaw juts out in defiance.

"Charlie..." she says sternly.

I look over his uniform and notice his badge. Chief Swan. _Fuck._

"Step out of the car, Busy."

Her hand tightly grasps the door handle. I reach over and place my hand over hers and still her. I slowly shake my head before turning to, what I am assuming is, her father.

"What seems to be the problem, Chief Sawn?" I ask.

"Nothing. This is between my daughter and I. You can wait in the car."

"With all due respect, sir, if I wasn't speeding or breaking the law, there is no reason to have pulled me over. So if you don't mind, we'll just be on our way."

"Listen, you little stuffed-shirt punk, this is my town and if I wanted you locked up, you would be. I don't know what business you have with Busy, but I can assure you what is about to happen now...is none of your business." He spews his words at me, spit literally propelling out of his mouth after ever enunciation. _Do they make face sanitizer?_ _This is who Swan's been all worked up over, a left-over wanna-be replacement for the guy on CHIPs?_

During the time of our brief pissing contest, Bella has managed to clamber out of the car and is standing behind Charlie.

"Dad, don't be a prick. Leave Edward alone. You're right. This is between you and I. Let's get this over with." She starts walking behind the car and veers off down the road onto the shoulder. Charlie strides over to her, and I quickly get out of the car. This doesn't sit well with me at all. I sneak towards the tree line to make sure I am close enough to hear but not be seen.

"Nice of you to call," he says.

"What did you want me to say, Dad? 'Hey, I was just passing through and thought I'd visit the man that pretty much said I was the biggest mistake and disappointment of his life.' Yeah, no thanks."

The look in her eyes when she tells him that punctures my soul. Granted, the Swan is anything but normal or what's expected, but she is amazing. She is loyal and headstrong. She's comfortable in her own skin and follows her heart. It's more than I can say about most people...myself included. The fact that this man, her father, would treat her with such disrespect...it makes my blood boil. I'm ready to interfere but he interrupts her.

"Now, Busy, I never said such a thing. You're putting words in my mouth."

"I didn't have to, Charlie. The way you looked at me, the way you plotted out my whole life from what I should wear to who I should marry... God, what was that all about? Why couldn't you just let me be me?"

"Because, you're too much like her. You're mother was the best thing that ever happened to me...until you," he admits. He scrubs his face, lingering on his 70's style porno mustache. I can tell he's getting anxious with the direction of this conversation.

"Cut the crap. You don't have to pretend I was a wonderful kid. I know after she died I went a little crazy. I stayed out late. I partied a little too hard. I skipped school to do my art. But what did you expect? I was living with a father that was emotionally cut off from everything, including me. You threw yourself into your job and you pawned me off on the McCartys. Is that why you wanted me to marry Em so bad? You didn't want to deal with me? You never talked to me about what I was going through. I lost her too, you know. I lost my mother and my best friend. I needed you, Dad. Mom would be ashamed at the way you handled things."

I see Charlie start to pace back and forth and can hear his frustrated huffs. I'm starting to worry. I don't know exactly what happened to her mother, but I can imagine it is a sore spot for both of them. If he says one wrong word to her, I will snap him in half. I will tear his throat out with my teeth and then call my sister to come burn the body.

"Jesus!" he yells. "I lost the love of my life and had to see a constant reminder of her every single day! You look just like her and to make things worse, you act just like her too. You're a free spirit. I get it. You want to pursue your art...it makes you feel whole or something to that effect. But why couldn't you do that here? Why couldn't you be happy here? She gave up everything for me. She put her dreams on hold to be with me. Dammit, Bella. I was just trying to give you stability. I was trying to find a way for you to stay...with me... You wanna talk about disappointment..."

That's it. I can't let him break this beautiful bird's wings. Before he finishes his sentence I cut in.

"Disappointment?" I hedge. "Bella is anything but. Have you seen her? I mean really seen her. Look into those eyes and tell me you're not proud. This girl walked into my life and in less than twelve hours, she managed to turn it upside down. But at the same time, she put it back on track. She sees what matters, what's important. She lives in the moment, living her life so she doesn't have any regrets. I'm sorry if I'm overstepping here, but the way I see it...your wife didn't put her life on hold for you. You were her life. Sure, she had dreams and hopes. Things she wanted to do with her life. We all do. Those things can change just as easily as a chaotic whirlwind stumbles into your office and tries to align your chakras and force feed you green tea. The bottom line is she chose to be with you...and Bella. When someone can walk into your life and somehow leave her fingerprints on every part of you, from your soul to your freshly polished mahogany desk, what other choice do you have?"

Bella's eyes are wide and bright, taking in my words and the sunlight breaking through the clouds. I look right back at her, confident in my words. She knows I wasn't just talking about her mother and father. I'm letting her know that I'm all in. I'm ready to live the way she does, the way I should have all along. She's a game changer for me. There's no point in living a life, mapped out and executed without flaws, if it's not with the person you want.

Charlie clears his throat. "I was going to say I am disappointed in myself, son." Then he turns his focus back to Bella. "You're right. I handled things horribly. I only wanted you to have a long, happy, fulfilled life. I thought that Emmett made you happy. Well, now I know why he didn't..." We all exchange uncomfortable glances briefly before he continues, "but I just thought that if you had all the things your mother wanted and didn't live to have…it would somehow make her loss not in vain." He pauses again and clears his throat. Do I see a tear? Jesus, no wonder Swan was avoiding this town like the plague. Maybe it's something in the water? Did I drink the water? "After your boy's speech, let's just say it put things in perspective. The heart knows who and what it wants and nothing can change that."

Bella snaps out of her zombie state and rushes to Charlie, wrapping her arms around him, tightly. Afraid I may have said too much, I slink back to the car. I continue to watch them but grant them their privacy, stalking them from the car instead. There are a lot of tears, from both, and mumbled "I love you's" and "I'm sorry's."

Well, that went well. I think. Christ, everything about this girl gets me all twisted and draws me deeper into her web. The rest of the trip we fall silent. I really hope I didn't over step my bounds. I just feel very protective of her. The funny thing is I think she is the one who has truly resuscitated me. I'm not sure how to proceed now. She doesn't seem too interested in divulging any more information, and I'm not sure exactly where we stand.

I drive us to my office lot and notice under the bright artificial light, my freshly serviced car parked in the faded number seven space, back to where this crazy train began only yesterday morning. It is almost midnight and will officially be Sunday in a few moments.

"So we're here." And I'm a dumbass announcing the obvious.

"Yep!" She isn't helping matters.

"Okay, so can I…maybe we should…" I can't seem to form the words and just fucking ask her to come home with me or at least get her number. I am not sure of the proper social etiquette or protocol in a situation such as this.

She cuts me off and finishes for me. "I'll see you at work on Monday, Mr. Cullen."

I let the air escape me and fucking let her go, confusion apparent on my face as she exits the passenger side of Rosie.

* * *

><p><strong>EN Only one more chapter left folks, *sniff sniff* IKR we are so sad that Trainwreck and Analward's time has come to an end…**

**That's why we are not ready to stop, soooooo… we would like your input here. Leave us some request for outtakes you would like to read, know about, missing pieces ect. There is an Epi in the works but it's not ready yet and perfection takes time. So be patient or we'll sick Alice on ya. Leave us your request and some love, Thanks! (ringtone and songs on the profile)**


	24. Time Bomb

**A/N So this is it folks...**

**maxipoo:** I feel like I'm about to drop my daughter off at school for the very first time. I'm not ready to let go.

**branchirps:** Me either...*sniff* this is kinda bittersweet. I remember when this was just some crazy idea in our wacked out heads, and now so many people have followed along on our Crazytrain and actually enjoyed the ride! I love these two like I love booze or coffee, and I can't live without coffee.

**m:** I will be chasing my Xanax with a gin martini this evening. It's barely enough to numb the pain. I've become way too attached to these two.

**b:** I know *digs deep in the cabinet* I may need a resupply to get through the night, although they already won't effing shut the hell up in my head...

**m:** Well, maybe we should keep going... some people said they never want this story to end.

**b**: Could it really be that easy?

**m:** I think people will be happy for them at the end of this chapter. And there's always the epilogue. We did get some great suggestions for outtakes.

**b:** True. I guess we'll just have to see what the future holds, but for now we bring you the end of Collide...enjoy!

**m:** We apologize in advance for not being funny today. It's hard to type with tears blurring your eyes. We hope some crazy anal...I mean crazy and anal will suffice.

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight. We own nothing except the fuckery. All publicly recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Collide**

**Chapter 23**

**Time Bomb**

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><p><strong>EPOV<strong>

Today begins like every other day, just how I prefer it. Three chimes on my PDA, exactly five minutes later, two buzzes on my alarm. I am up and in the steaming hot shower, shaved and dressed in the next twenty minutes. The automatic coffee timer has already begun and is just sending its last drip into the carafe, waiting for me to prepare one cup of piping hot, slightly creamed coffee. Two swirls of the coffee spoon and one test sip meets my approval, one hundred and seventy degree fresh brewed perfection in a cup.

I sit and sip my coffee as I look over the appointments that I have set for the day. This is when I remember today is the day that I have to fix this! I have to do something. I finish my cup of coffee and pour one to go. Two more swirls of the spoon, I tighten the lid on the stainless travel mug to carry with me. Placing the spoon into the dishwasher and wiping down the counter, my eyes briefly search the room making sure everything has been returned to normal.

I feel a strange sense on indignation wash over me. I unscrew the lid on my travel mug, stomp over to the sink, pour the coffee down the drain and leave the two parts to the mug unwashed sitting in the sink. I flip off the light and rush to my car without counting—anything. The only thoughts in my mind are those of Isabella Marie Swan and the beautiful Trainwreck she is. _How could I just let her drive away Saturday night? Why didn't I try and stop her?_

I slide into my leather seat and peel out of my garage. I reach for my iPod and flip it to the song I couldn't get out of my head the entire weekend since our insane, inexplicable encounter. Selecting Muse, I locate the song and crank it up loud… _It's a new dawn it's a new day it's a new life, for me…AND I'M FEELING GOOD._ Fuzzy moments that I've replayed in my head all weekend fill my mind with a vengeance now as the memory of touching her invades every pore of my being.

I may disregard a few traffic laws and I arrive in record time, pulling into faded yellow space number seven that is reserved for me. I smile at the irony, the lucky number seven with a peeling exterior. The dichotomy that exists in the numbered space mirrors the Swan and I.

I wait on the ninth floor in my office, pacing. I know what I have to do. I hear the elevator ding and still myself, rounding the door of my office. That is when I see her. She is breathtaking and I lose all sense.

"Ms. Swan, I need to see you in my office." I usher her in and lock the door behind me.

I don't hesitate. I don't pause and there is no reservation or over thinking. I grab her ass and lift her hiking up her already inappropriate skirt, and I'm rewarded with the feel of lacy boy shorts. Her nimble fingers loosen my tie and she rips the front of my shirt open. Our mouths fuse as our tongues slide together, enticing each other further. There is nothing awkward as I set her down on my mahogany desk and remove her blouse with the same sense of urgency, revealing an orange bra with white polka dots. Urging her back she exposes the neon green boy shorts to me and I hum my approval. My eyes quickly scan her in all of her mismatched glory. We continue to grope and clench and fuck with our mouths, when I accidentally knock her bag off the table and a loud buzzing threatens to ruin the moment. Her eyes go wide and I shake my head.

"Ignore it," I grunt as I nuzzle my nose into the sweet spot under her earlobe. My teeth trailing bites down her neck as my hands squeeze and tease her erect nipples. She starts moaning but still protests.

"It's Jake," she whines.

"Who the fuck is Jake and why is he calling you?" A wicked smirk forms on her swollen lips.

"Aww, you're jealous. That's so cute." I pull back slightly and stare at her and really believe this woman will be the death of me.

She hops off the desk as I adjust my raging hard-on and gets on all fours, searching the spilled contents of her hobo bag for her cell phone. While I admire the view of her heart shaped ass, I am still a bit perturbed. _Why would she stop what we were doing to talk to some guy named Jake? I know she loves her friends but this is a bit ridiculous. If he's that important to her..._

She stands up triumphantly and announces, "Edward, I'd like you to meet Jake. He's very important to me and if we're gonna keep doing this, you'll need to learn to work together."

She's waving a leopard print dildo that is buzzing so hard her hand is shaking. I eye the offending object and grin. He may be able to vibrate but I've got at least a few more inches on him, and I can hit her spot just right.

I reach for her face and kiss her with even more intensity, lifting her once again. I can no longer wait. I urge her back onto the desk with little restraint. Her eyes meet mine and I unzip my pants, reaching into my pocket, this time proudly showcasing my bright blue protection. A smile forms at her mouth and I kiss it away as I cover my cock, slide her panties to the side and enter her with an unrelenting thrust. There is no miss.

I pull out and she whimpers like Puss as I lift her legs and grab her thighs for leverage. In and out, deep and consuming, I fuck her on my desk. We say nothing but our eyes are wide. Every movement bringing about our collapse, the walls we've built tumbling around us with each additional thrust. Burying my cock inside her, I feel the weight of my shitty life vanishing and desire rising to the center. Her wide chocolate eyes watch me.

Her hands are all over me, urging me faster and harder with her moans, Jake long forgotten. Her complete supplication to my control brings me closer to the edge knowing she is truly the one who wields all the power. The sex is fast, loud, hard and completely inappropriate for our surroundings, making it all the more appealing to us both. Her vocal expertise is proudly showcased with her spiraling orgasm spurring my own release to follow. I feel my balls begin clench and tighten as I grab her face bringing her lips to mine.

Our lips barely touching, I whisper, "Ms. Swan, you're fired."

We are all hands, lips and lust as my orgasm takes over. As I groan my own satisfaction our mouths—Collide.

* * *

><p><strong>FIN<strong>

**E/N *le sigh* Is that really it for these two? Meh you never know you may hear from us again, both Trainwreckella and Analward have a lot of talking to do now. Leave us your thoughts and love is always nice too... Until the Epi!**


	25. Help! I'm Alive  The Epiclogue

**A/N **So here we are...end of the road. Hope it was worth the wait.

**maxipoo: **I really missed these guys. Let's give them the send off they deserve!  
><strong>branchirps:<strong> They have come a long way.  
><strong>maxipoo: <strong>It makes me wish it was a never ending journey. Kind of like a long and winding road *starts singing* The long and winding road that leads...to your door. Okay, enough with the tears. I told myself I wouldn't cry. Go onward Analward and Trainwreckella. May you live long and prosper...and fuck...a lot!

* * *

><p>"<strong>Epiclogue"<strong>

**Help I'm Alive**

**Some time in the not so distant future...**

I stare vacantly at the easel in front of me. Something is missing. I know exactly what's missing but there's nothing I can do about it now. Artistically, I can mix colors and textures to help but nothing will fill this hole in my heart. It's in the shape of him and he's not here. I feel the strap of my overall slip down my bare shoulder as I look at the picture from all different angles. Maybe if I fix the green it will help. I take my brush and swirl it on the palette, mixing browns, yellows and greens together. I get slightly distracted as the colors blend and bleed. I dab my brush on the canvas and—nothing. Dammit, this shouldn't be this hard. These eyes have haunted me since the moment I met him. They are all I see.

I place the palette and brush down on my side table and walk over to the couch. I lean back and the leather is cool against my back. I really don't dig leather...you stick to it when you're naked. And the style isn't really my thing either. It's black with this nailhead trim and turned out legs. Kind of stuffy if you ask me, but I guess it's kind of cool my couch has nails in it. I haven't named her yet. I'll get around to it. I know it's a her, though, because the more I look at her, the more I realize she just wants to be loved. Some good wear and tear and she'll be perfect.

I kick my feet up onto my coffee table. It's old and battered but the wood...the wood is alive. It has a soul. You touch it and you can just feel the memories. I know it has some gouges on the sides and may have some scorch marks from a certain glass bowl that was left burning and sometimes I swear he smells like a nasty old fish fry but Harry's a keeper. _Harry was a deal breaker. _I take Garrett in my hands and light up. Maybe he can send me some inspiration. Just as I'm about to inhale, it comes to me, no Garrett needed. I smile at this. _See, I can still do it without the ganja and my brand of crazy._ I really am trying. I frolic over to my paint cabinet and find an iridescent gold acrylic. Perfect. I don't even bother using my brush. I dip my finger into the paint and add some soft strokes to the irises I've painted. It's almost there but nothing could ever measure up to the real thing. I really wish I had permanently etched them into my mind, but when he's around, everything else goes fuzzy. Right now, if I want to see him, I have to paint him. Instead of being covered in paint, I want to be covered in him. I want his arms around me. I want his lips on my collarbone, tracing hot trails all over my body. And I want to feel his heart racing against my own after a crazy game of twister. _Yeah, not gonna happen._"Battleship" was the last time either of us ventured into the wonderful world of Hasbro games. I let out a disgruntled sigh. I am so determined to finish this picture of him I don't hear my front door open. I'm so obsessed with painting the perfect replica, an unfulfilling substitute, I don't realize someone is standing behind me and blowing hot breaths down my neck. I am too consumed by the memory of him that I don't feel a pair of hands reach behind the bib of my overalls and give my tits a firm squeeze.

"Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you paint?" he whispers in my ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth.

I whip around instantly and wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze my legs around his lower back. I start peppering kisses all over his face and neck. He slowly pulls away so he can get a good look at me.

**EPOV**

What a long five days.

After being fired from Newton's for inappropriate behavior in the office, aka fucking Bella on my desk and the best decision I ever made, by the way, I took Emmett up on his offer. I received a nice severance package, so I discussed things with Em first and decided to take a few weeks off.

Spending every waking hour with Bella was the next crazy, hair-brained, erratic thing I decided and it was the second best decision of my new life. We spent many hours having all of the discussions 'normal' couples usually participate in, although we were anything but and it was freeing. The time with her in her shoebox dump of an apartment was, well if I am honest, a complete disaster—at first. I had to fill several garbage bags and rid the place of the clutter. You know, make some sense out of the chaos before I could breathe. Bella was really receptive to the idea, mostly. I mean her place wasn't dirty and cockroach infested, just cluttered. That, I could live with...kinda. She had all sorts of paints and canvases in random places and some were absolutely breathtaking. The swan was an artist, a real artist. I knew then that she needed a proper space for her art, and I wanted very much to give that to her. But we took things slow... well for us.

She had spent several nights with me before I was ever allowed entrance into her shrine and during that time, she had given me plenty of flack for my, "Stark, bland, less than living, apartment with nice views of the city." She was disturbed initially by my cupboards and closets and how everything within was neatly stacked or folded and all labels faced the same direction. She said it reminded her of the creepy guy in that Julia Robert's movie, "Sleeping With the Enemy." That bothered me; I didn't want her to think I was some controlling freak that would harm her—ever. So I made certain adjustments. I allowed her to scatter some of my Architectural Digest magazines around on my coffee table, and we painted my white walls a deep taupe that Bella insisted was a color fit for hanging art. I was hesitant at first but when I finally saw her art, I knew I wanted it all over my walls, but I drew the line at disorganized cabinets and clutter without purpose.

The weeks went quickly and I decided to take the plunge, so I propositioned her. I had already rented a house in Forks, knowing I needed to move closer to take Emmett up on his offer to be his personal architect and project manager. It was time for a change and this would allow me the creative freedom I was desperately in search of. I asked Bella to move back to Forks with me and move in, be my official girlfriend. We had already been spending more time together than apart, but I was really nervous, like a total twelve year old. I lived alone for so long that the thought made me extremely apprehensive, but the thought of not being with Bella every waking moment made me even more edgy. I kept my apartment in Seattle and offered to pay to keep hers as well, but she refused, insisting it was silly. Somehow that made me inexplicably giddy, as do most things with Bella.

I went to Seattle on Thursday with Emmett to meet with some investors and my sister. Alice is a Wedding Coordinator and I wanted to introduce Emmett since he would be involved in some of the plans that would be unfolding over the coming months. Being away from Bella for five days was all I could handle, so I came back early. I realized I told her I wouldn't be home until Tuesday, but I had to see her, feel her, and taste her.

Now, as I unlock the door, I don't see Bella immediately and I sigh inwardly. I'm stupid. I don't mean to be a chauvinistic prick, expecting her to wait by the door on my arrival in nothing but an apron presenting me with a martini, but after that one time she did, it's all I imagine every time I open the door. _She isn't expecting you, dumbass._I leave my stuff by the door because I can't be bothered with anything until I can feel her in my arms. I follow the music, an old recording of me playing classical guitar. I smile knowing what I'll find. I watch as she dots paint on the canvas with her fingers, the way she touches the canvas with reverence as her fingers fidget with the precise placement of a small gold fleck. She's painting me. I smile as I silently watch her for a moment. Her hair is tied back in a bandana and her, two sizes too big overalls hang on her frame. As she raises her arm to glide her fingers across the canvas, I see the outline of her naked perky breast beneath.

She is sexy when she paints. I slowly step closer as my pulse begins to quicken. I inhale her paint and linseed oil mix blended with her natural freesia-patchouli essence. Placing my nose deep in her hair I reach around and grab her breast in my hands as I whisper in her ear.

"Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you paint?" My lips close around her ear lobe as I begin to nibble on her neck; I know it drives her wild.

She flings herself around and straddles me mid air. Her hands are all over me and I grab her tighter as she kisses my face and neck. She slowly pulls away so she can get a good look at me.

"What are you doing here? I didn't think you'd be back until Tuesday." She seems as giddy as I am with our reunion after our short time apart.

"And miss my girlfriend painting naked?"

"I'm not naked. I'm wearing these..." she leans back unhooks the straps and lets them fall "...now I'm naked." She smiles and it makes me harder instantly. "So I take it everything went well. Is that why you're home early?"

"You really expect me to talk shop while you're wrapped around me naked?"

I don't wait for a response as I carry her, messy paint and all, to the leather sofa she is so undecided on. Perhaps I can change her mind. Easing her back onto the cool leather, I shed my clothes, socks, and shoes quickly then I take my time and make love to the woman—I love.

Studying every detail of her bare, exposed form, I run my hands up her smooth thighs inching closer to hover over her body. She has a glint in her eye reminiscent of the fleck she dabbed in her painting. _Was she seeing in my eyes a reflection of what I see in her? _As I lean in, my mouth ghosts the plump line of her lips pausing briefly to savor the taste they alone hold. Inhaling the air that surrounds our heated bodies, my hands slide up her arms and grasp her hands in my own. I trace my nose along her jaw and down into the crook of her neck to her tattoo that my mouth craves. Toying and feeling her flesh in between my teeth elicits a sexy moan from the swan. Her hands break our contact and trace the contours of my neck and shoulders, gripping my flesh between her paint stained hands. She continues her decent as I lick a trail to her ear and flick my tongue only once before whispering my thoughts. "Fuck...I missed you!"

Her soft fingers continue her urgency and need for my control. As my mouth entices her tongue to play, our mouths find a sensual rhythm and her hands grip my ass in one final plea. I give her what she wants, but I draw it out. Our bodies are anything but strangers; I know what she wants—needs, and I crave the very same of her. My practiced control only serves to heighten our eventual climax. Bringing Bella to the edge of ecstasy is my favorite form of compulsory control in my new life. As my hardened cock grazes her entrance and implores another needy whimper, I feel her response deep inside.

Entering her is always the same—incredibly inexplicable, complex, and fucking perfect. We move together, increasing the speed and shifting the angle until we are nothing but pools of flesh and breath. I breathe her in as I always do, coming down from my high and gratifying release and pulling her impossibly closer to me.

"So you gonna tell me how it all went now?" she inquires lazily as we lay together naked and sated on my old leather sofa.

"Things went well. I think Em's procured additional backing and looks like he may start another commercial project in Port Angeles soon which I will have carte blanche to design."

"Oh, baby, that's great I am so happy for you."

"So, I also stopped in to see Alice."

"Oh, I can't wait to see her again! Actually, we should totally invite your family for a barbecue get together. You know like a house warming get together kinda thingy."

"It just so happens Alice will be heading this way on Friday in a professional capacity. "

"What is it she does again? I can never keep these things straight. Design, right?"

"Um, not exactly." That's my girl, can't be bothered with the details. I was kind of counting on that seeing as how I really wanted to surprise her without being sneaky and hiding things from her. I use her lack of attention to my advantage as I trace her curves with my fingers.

"Well, whatever, I'll just be glad to see her. By the way, the pack's planning a get together on Friday at Em and Jazzy's place. We're supposed to bring battleship."

That's it I lose it, digging my fingers into her sides I tickle her silly. Her laughter erupts.

"Ed…ward… Sto…. Please." I torture her for a few seconds until I grab her neck and turn her head towards me. Staring her straight in the eyes I speak, "I thought I made up for that disastrous night. Am I ever gonna live this down?"

"Hey, it wasn't a disaster. That's when I knew that I could love you—I mean really love you."

"Really? After a disastrous fuck you knew you could love a guy?" I furrow my brow at her.

"Not any guy, and it wasn't disastrous! You...I knew I could love you, and you did many things to me that no one else has ever come close to. Your fingers and hands and lips…mmm…" she pauses and begins grabbing my ass and lightly trailing her fingers over my semi erect dick, "...and this. Why, your peacock has the finest architecture a girl could ever ask for."

I begin coughing as I try to laugh. "So your quoting a pop song, regarding my cock, attempting to make me feel better about the talk of lame Hasbro games while we had drunken, disastrous bar sex?"

"Yeah did it work? Cuz I hardly thought Wordsworth, Shelley or Byron would be fitting." She smirks.

I kiss her mouth and her tongue wraps effortlessly around mine as my fingers stroke her cheek. I love this swan; she may seem like an eccentric duckling to many, like she did to me at first glance, but this swan is beautiful inside and out. Kissing her, I remember I have some good news I can share now that doesn't have to wait until Friday.

"I also visited a few galleries while I was in Seattle and…"

"Edward, we've discussed this. I am not ready."

"Yes, you are and looks like the one on 3rd is interested. They want to see more of your work and possibly plan an exhibit."

"Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, what have you done?"

"Nothing…" I'm nervous because she seems really irritated, but she only uses my full name when she is playing around. "I mean I took a portfolio of some of your stuff with me and…"

Tears start to fall down her cheeks and now I'm unsure if I have upset her or really crossed a line.

"Bella, talk to me."

**BPOV**

He wants me to talk to him but I don't know what to say. This man, this incredible, thoughtful, loving man, has come into my life and made me want things I didn't know I could have. I ask him what he's done because I don't know anymore. People think I'm the one that has turned his life upside down, but he has done the same for me.

After I ran away from my life in Forks, I had to find a way to make it on my own and keep a straight face. I amped up the "Busy" persona. I threw myself into everyone and everything, never really getting attached and always staying so busy. I became a yogi. I learned how to read auras and align chakras. I focused on crazy things like colonics and smoking weed and writing poetry no one will ever read. I used to convince myself that I was content with the loneliness. After all, how lonely was I really? I had Rosie, Garrett, and Jake. I also had the memories of my friends back home, playing on a constant loop. I just accepted living like this, keeping a comfortable distance—no attachments, no regrets, and no consequences. I always lived like that...until I took a temp job at Newton's.

Had I always dreamed of having my art in a gallery? Absofuckinglutely. Did I think it would ever happen? Hell to the no!

Art is a piece of me. It's inside the marrow of my bones, it flows through my veins and pumps into my heart. But now my heart isn't just pumping for me anymore. It's beating for a certain sexy, reformed anal-retentive, architect. He gives me the confidence I need to live the way I'm meant to.

I'm still kind of "kooky" as the scrods like to call it. Scrods are the business wives we have to deal with on a semi-regular basis. Edward has to wine and dine some of Em's clients so sometimes I tag along. I gave the purple wig to Goodwill and opted for real purple streaks in my hair. They find it repulsive but Edward finds it "fuck hot." His words, not mine. Anyway, these scrods give me the look. That fish-eye, stank-eye look that says, "If you try to fuck my husband, I will tell everyone on the PTA what a home wrecking whore you are!"

_Ha! Like I would ever dream of touching their husbands. God, Em wouldn't even give them a second look. At least Edward knows how to loosen up with the right kind of coaxing, and by coaxing I mean stroking...of his peacock. _

So I call them scrods because they are just that: a white, flaky bland fish. And speaking of fish I can guarantee you that their hoo-ha reeks of it.

"I love you," I finally say.

"And..." He's waiting for me to finish my sentence, always expecting the worst. He really has no idea how amazing he is, how perfect we are together.

I shake my head and crawl on top of his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and stare at my missing puzzle piece.

"No and. Just, I love you. Thank you." And then we really break in Nora, the couch with the nails.

**EPOV**

I don't know how I've made it to Friday without spilling the news sooner; I really don't like keeping things from Bella. We are taking Rosie but Bella prefers to drive her. She is really possessive and since the infamous initial trip to Forks, I am rarely allowed behind the wheel. She insists I drive like an old man and has properly christened my Volvo, Queen Victoria, suitable for an old man with four given names. I love Bella and I am excited for tonight.

"Have I told you lately that you look incredibly sexy driving Rosie?"

"Thanks. Are you just trying to butter me up? What are you up to?" She gives me her shifty eyes and a coy smile I would love to just... _Can't think like that now._

"Nothing. It just feels good to be finally together and hang out with the gang again." She laughs at the word "gang." She prefers to call them "the pack." She has told me that my word choices are reminiscent of a 50's sitcom dad.

She just smirks and speeds up. She handles Rosie like a pro and it admittedly makes me hard. Fuck, this woman drives me crazy and I can't get enough of her.

We arrive at Emmett and Jasper's place. I know he prefers _Jazzy_ and I try to use it when addressing him directly, but the name is just over the top. I can't seem to get the lyrics of "_One"_ out of my head. Whenever I refer to him as _Jazzy_, I visualize glittery Jazz hands waving in my face frantically.

One night when Bella was talking about getting together with them and she used his name, Jazzy, repeatedly, I had nightmares. It was awful. All these tall, blond men dressed in bad 80's gold lame fabric with glittery gloves were chasing me down with toy battleships chanting, "One singular sensation every little thrust he makes. One thrilling penetration every move that he fakes. One sink…" I woke up gasping for air and Bella was giggling. She informed me I was talking in my sleep and screaming for the glittery hands to lay off my battleship. I hated Hasbro. I sunk myself deep in Bella and forgot about the fucked-up dream. I loved being inside of Bella.

"Are you just gonna sit in the car with a boner or are you planning on joining the party?" Bella is already out of the car leaning over the passenger side window, her perky tits smashed together threatening to spill out of her purple bra under her red dress.

I adjust myself and clear my throat. "Sorry. You know that's not helping, right? I like the red dress, by the way, and I can't wait to get you home and…"

"Edward, seriously, we just had sex like an hour ago," she rushes.

"I know but…Wait are you not the one who's usually hitting me up?" I'm confused momentarily, lost in the fog of my nightmare and the soothing sex she provided as comfort.

"Yes, and I would like to be feeling you up again. Maybe if you're a naughty boy I could punish you in the bathroom, but right now everyone is waiting on us." She winks.

"Shouldn't I be the one concerned with being punctual?" _What the hell is happening_? All I can focus on is sex with this woman, and being with her, and laughing with her, and living with her… I get out of the car slide my arm around her waist and pull her into me as we walk up the steps, whispering in her ear.

"Your purple streaks are fuck hot and they match your bra. You know how I like to match." I give her ass a smack and hold the door open for her to enter, hoping that earns me a demerit for later.

"They're here. They're here. They're here!" Christ, Alice is the first to spot us and is jumping up and down like a Disney character. She actually spent a summer working at Disney when she was younger playing some princess, talking all squeaky, and posing for pictures with hundreds of little girls who wanted to grow up and be just like her. Well, more like the princess they thought she was. Thinks she is—I'm afraid she missed the memo.

"Bellaaaaa… so good to see you again! Wow, your streaks turned out great. Don't you just love Tyler? He does such great work. Gah, and your dress is fab.! You totally look nothing like a hillbilly, Daisy Duke wannabe with dreads. Now you look trendy, youthful, and fresh: a total artsy painter with panache. So tell me, tell me are you as excited as I am?"

"Alice!"

"Doll face!"

Em and I try to get her attention before she lets the cat out of the bag. Em reaches around and scoops up the little Tink fairy and whispers something in her ear. She giggles and mumbles something to him scurrying off, calling over her shoulder.

"Sorry, Bella, duty calls. Hiiiii, Edward! Byeee, Edward!"

"Bells, Eddie, so glad you two could make it. Grab a drink E, make yourself at home. I need to chat with Bells for a minute."

I shake hands with Emmett, exchange pleasantries and then lean in to my girl. "Gin martini, dirty?"

Then I ghost my nose by her ear before I back away to reveal her nod of approval. _Does that earn me another demerit or was that me being a good boy? I was thinking dirty thoughts, wonder if that counts? _I leave Em to talk to Bella in private, knowing what he is going to tell her as I wander off to procure some libations.

I find Jasper and Alice in the kitchen trading cocktail recipes and tips on the signs of a decent manicurist. I pour bourbon for myself and walk over to join the two princesses. This should be fun.

"E-boy, don't you look handsome tonight. I like your hair much better this way." Jasper smiles.

"I know! Bella and I discussed it and he's letting it grow out, a tad more fitting of an artist's companion. Don't cha think?" Alice coos.

"Absolutely, girl, and he can always use some of that great texturizer that Ty has to tame his locks when he has to meet with some of Emmy Bears's stuffy clients," Jasper adds.

Jasper and Alice carry on an entire conversation without me, about me, as I stand there.

"So, you and Jazzy have seem to hit it off," I interrupt and take a swallow of my drink.

"Yeah, Jazzy is like my gay boyfriend!"

"Wouldn't that make you a beard?" I hedge. I love to harass her.

"Naw, E-boy, you got it all wrong. That's if I wanted to hide the fact I was gay. Obviously..." he motions toward himself, in his ridiculously tight leather pants, smoothing his manicured hands down his hips before continuing "...this isn't the case. Isn't she just the cutest thing you've ever seen, though? Look at her clear skin and her nearly non-existent pores. I mean if the thought of pussy didn't turn my insides, I'd totally go for her."

"Aww, Jazzy, that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me?" I think Tink's tush lights up.

"Really? The sweetest?" I choke on my bourbon. I shake off the nonsense and nod as I leave them to talk of pore refining masks. Fixing Bella's drink, I tote it with me as I go in search of her.

**BPOV**

"Busy, we've known each other forever. You're my best friend...even though you ran away for five years..."

"Am I ever going to live that down," I interrupt.

"Not a chance in hell, kiddo. You know how much I love you right? How much I've always loved you..."

I quickly cover my mouth with my hand. I'm afraid of what will come out. I close my eyes and shake my head in disbelief. Maybe when I open them this will all be a magical, mystery tour...like I took too many 'shrooms.

"Please, don't tell me you're still in love with me and you are just experimenting with Jazzy because...because this can't be happening. I'm happy Em," I plead with him.

"Slow down—"

"And you can't hurt Jazzy like that...and if you think I would want you after knowing that you've stuck your... Oh my God! I can't handle this!" I frantically look around for Edward. He can make the room stop spinning.

Emmett's bear claws grasp my shoulders and he brings me back to the moment.

"Bella, I love you but I don't want to be _in_you again..." He cracks a smile and I start breathing again. "I'm asking Jazzy to marry me. I want you to be my best man."

"But I'm a girl," I reply.

"That's all you have to say? You're a girl? No shit, Sherlock," Emmett spats.

"Emmy bear, of course I will be your best man. Why didn't you ask Sam? Well, besides the fact that he sort of made me cheat on you..."

"Psssh.. You think I cared about that?" He lets out a deep rumble. "I was busy sticking my..." I put my finger up to his mouth, silencing him. He rolls his eyes and continues, "I asked Sam. He thought you would make a better best man and he thinks it would finally get us back to the way things were between us."

"Things are the same," I urge.

"Almost... I love you and I want nothing more than the person I love to be there and stand up for me as I give myself to the love of my life...forever."

Tears start to roll down my cheeks and I'm at a loss. I have missed a whole chapter in his life, watching him grow the fuck up and become the man he was meant to be. _He found love and security and all I found was a temporary escape...until Edward. _He's right. Things are almost back on track. We are all happy and all a family. I wouldn't miss being his best man for the world. I wrap my arms around his neck, giving him the tightest hug I can muster but I have nothing on his mammoth arms. He squeezes me tighter and lifts me off the floor.

"Can't breathe," I choke.

He puts me down and I straighten my dress.

"Sorry. Look at it this way...now you definitely can't run away because you have an official duty to uphold."

I punch him in the arm. I'm never running away again.

**EPOV**

I spot Bella huddled in the corner with Emmett and smile because she has punched him. That's my feisty girl.

"So looks like that went well." I smile as I join their tête-a-tête and hand Bella her cocktail. She gulps it. "Wow, that good huh?"

"Dude, it's all good. She agreed." Emmett's face lights up.

"Say what? You told him! Before me?" She finishes the drink and sets the glass on a nearby table not bothering to eat the olives—her favorite part.

"Bells, look I needed his help. I wanted to surprise Jazzy with his own wedding coordinator, and I remembered his sister Alice was in the industry."

"What? I thought you sister was in design?" She looks lost.

"Yeah kind of like you thought I was in advertising." I smile at her and offer her my bourbon.

Emmett's booming chuckle settles over the room and draws attention to our conversation. Bella takes a sip of my drink and gets that look in her eye. I know what she is thinking and it makes me nervous.

"Here, darling, you enjoy your libation whilst I retreat to procure one of my own." She hands me back my glass leaving red lip marks on the side. Her voice is sexy as hell, but I know she is taunting me. She never speaks like that! She is pissed I've kept this from her. _Fuck! _I watch as her tight ass sways and the red fabric glides across the room leaving me to discuss this with Emmett.

"I told you. Trust is a big thing for Bella and I. I hated keeping it from her. I should have never listened to you and your dumbass suggestions. You should have told her sooner. Now I'm…" I run my fingers thorough my hair like a madman and gulp the rest of my drink down.

"E-man, relax." He shrugs. "It'll be great make up sex." He laughs.

Sam walks over to join the conversation now.

"Who's having makeup sex?" Sam questions.

"E-man and Bells."

"Um, do you all have to be so open and discuss everything? I'd really prefer if…"

Now Emily joins the conversation, she is petting her cat. _Christ, does she tote that hairy thing everywhere?_

"You don't want to discuss makeup sex? Why? Makeup sex is the best," Emily inquires innocently as she strokes the cat.

Bella, Alice, and Jasper all stroll into the room and now also join the conversation.

"Makeup sex is hot. Who's in trouble?" Alice chimes in. Fuck, I am not discussing this with my sister. I draw the line there!

"No one!" I growl.

"E-man, why so pensive? Maybe you need a cleansing breath," Jasper adds.

"I asked the same question and got no response. So looks like you need to spill, Edward." Sam chuckles.

Isabella just smiles. It's freaking me out. "Hey, Emily, do you tote your puss everywhere?" Bella's subject change catches me refreshingly off guard, but I am leery.

"Sure, Bella, don't you?"

"Well, not one that hairy. Edward prefers my brazilian." All of the color drains from my face, and I watch the smirk pass between Emily and Bella.

Jasper hands me another drink. He's my fucking savior. _Maybe he should star in a production of Jesus Chris Superstar._I take a swallow, more like a gulp.

"I shave my balls! Emmy Bear prefers it that way as well," Jasper announces to the gang and winks at me. I choke and spew bourbon everywhere.

Everyone is dying from laughter as I choke. Emmett pats me on the back and adds, "You okay there, E?"

"Edward, really it's common knowledge that most men prefer the smooth clean shaven skin to the 70's no-holds-barred, hair-fest-a-palooza that once was popular and dominated porn flicks. Seriously you are so fucking uptight sometimes."

With the added snark of my Disney sister spewing pornographic statistics to me, everyone is howling with laughter. I'm stunned. _How the hell did this become my life?_ I thought we we're just here to celebrate the engagement of two individuals wanting to share the rest of their lives together―even if they are proud gay men. I was here to support that. I was waiting patiently for Emmett to pop the question to his princess. Now, we are openly discussing shaved balls. _Wonder if Bella would like that? Christ, there I go again! Who the hell as commandeered my brain?_

"Speaking of porn and hair..." Emmett bends to one knee, his massive tree trunk thighs threatening to bust out of his designer jeans "...I remember when I asked Mr. Pornstache himself for Busy's hand in marriage. It was one of the scariest things I have ever done. Not because Charlie scares me but because I knew it wasn't forever for us. Sorry, Busy," he explains.

Bella smiles and shrugs while Jasper's perfectly manicured hand shoots up to his mouth to cover the gaping hole.

"Mr. Whitlock, would you do me the incredible honor of spending the rest of your life with me, being the perfectly shaved cub to my grizzly bear? Please say yes. I can't imagine my life without you in it."

I look over to Bella and tears are rolling down her apple cheeks. My sister has this crazed look on her face like she is going to plan the biggest, most fabulous drag queen wedding of the century. I actually think I can see the gears turning in that tiny head of hers. I really hope she doesn't get the Village People as a band because that would be rather trite and down right horrendous. Lady Gaga on the other hand... _What have these men done to me?_

"Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!"

Alice quickly whisks Jasper and Emmett away to chew their ears off about venues and tuxes. Bella and I walk into the kitchen so I can make us another drink. I'm sure the celebration has only just started.

"What's with the tears?" I ask.

"I'm really happy for them. They both deserve this so much, Em especially," she explains through uncontrollable sobs. My girl is always beautiful and confident and everything in my bones tells me something is wrong.

"But that doesn't explain the tears. You're not exactly the emotional type. Alice...I can understand but you..."

She swipes at her tears and I can tell she's going to brush it off.

"It's nothing. Em and I almost got married and I am so happy we didn't. Everything would have been different. We would have been miserable and now he's so happy I just—"

"You're not happy?" I interrupt. I'm afraid that I've managed to find the one swan in the universe that doesn't mate for life. I love her with every fiber of my being, and I am scared to death one wrong move and she will run away...only from me this time.

"Of course I am. I just wonder if maybe I'm not cut out for that type of life."

"Marriage?" I ask and my voice cracks like the prepubescent pizza delivery boy.

She nods, her brown eyes pools of question.

"Between my dad and Em and my relationship track record, it doesn't exactly seem promising."

I have to stop this train before it derails and throws this beautiful disaster we have going off course. It's way too early to be talking marriage, and I would never dream about caging her like an exotic animal that needs to be free. It doesn't change the fact that like Emmett, I can't imagine my life without her in it.

"Is it not enough just to have a long, happy life with me?" That's all I want and I know my own happiness depends on this girl by my side...forever.

Marriage isn't necessary, just having a life with her is enough, and I think that's the direction we were going in. If I knew marriage was such a touchy subject I would have never blindsided her with this news. I would have let her know before we got here.

She lets my words sink in and I see a faint spark in her glazed over eyes. Her lips turn up into the slightest smirk before she says, "Yeah. For now."

Those three words give me enough confidence to know without a doubt this collision course is far from over and I couldn't be happier. The day Isabella Swan walked into my office was like two worlds collided, creating one unfathomable universe and you know what they say about the universe...It all started with a Big Bang.

* * *

><p><strong>EN **The end. It was a bumpy, crazy, ridiculous, and insane ride but all good things must come to an end. Right?

**maxipoo: **Hell to the no! Do you know us at all?  
><strong>branchirps: <strong>They probably don't... LOL But we'll tell ya anyway.  
><strong>maxipoo: <strong>Well that little reference to the Big Bang...  
><strong>branchirps: <strong>Could possibly be a reference...if you all talk dirty to us!  
><strong>maxipoo: <strong>Alright, you've all begged enough. So here's the deal. There is a sequel in the works called, "The Big Bang." And we have an extra special mystery guest coming along for the ride. I suddenly feel like singing, "I'm Your Captain" by Grand Funk Railroad. Is she going to be El Capitan on this new adventure?  
><strong>branchirps: <strong>So here goes peeps...

**The Big Bang (Find the banner on our profile)**

**Bella: maxipoo**

**Edward: branchirps**

**Alice: jtmd24**


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